


GM Side Stories

by NotVampireJasper



Series: Grounding Magic [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: British Sign Language, Bullying, Deaf Character, Different perspectives, Dogs, Fairies, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Harry feeds some people, Harry makes some friends, Kids, Minor Character Death, Some Humor, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotVampireJasper/pseuds/NotVampireJasper
Summary: Side stories from Grounding Magic. Not vital to the main story, but a lot of my ocs get featured here. And any bonus scenes that don't make into the main story will get placed in here too.Warning: chapters aren't in any particular order and the pov jumps around a lot.





	1. The Brooks Family

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
> 
> This is a side story inspired by what was mentioned in Baking. 
> 
> I want to be upfront and say that prior to writing this I wasn’t familiar with BSL (British Sign Language) at all. I am familiar with Auslan (Australian Sign Language) though, at least enough to key sign. Thankfully, Auslan and BSL are very similar because Auslan is based on BSL. Unlike ASL (American Sign Language) which comes from the French. I still looked everything up to make sure it was right. 
> 
> I hope my descriptions of signing are understandable. Writing down signs is trickier than I thought it would be.

**The Brooks family, from number five Privet Drive**

Henry Brooks tugged at his jacket sleeves as he watched his younger brother Isaac bounce around dressed as a pirate. Dressing as a mime on Halloween might have been the safest option for him but the costume wasn’t the most comfortable. The face paint itched, the trousers was too long in places, and he thought the suspenders might snap off and hit him in the face at any moment. He glanced back to see his parents following at a sedate pace. They were just wearing regular clothes and holding hands while they walked. He loved them, truly. But it was hard to enjoy himself on a night like this when they were a constant reminder of how he didn’t fit in. 

He was a good older brother; he took the job of protecting Isaac very seriously. He was good in school. He did well in tests and the teachers were always remarking on how mature he was for his age. He didn’t get into fights and he didn’t cause trouble. 

He wasn’t allowed to go off on his own though, not even on the walk to school which he knew by heart. Not like the other kids his age. He wasn’t trusted to look after his brother. Not on his own. Because he wouldn’t hear danger approaching, and because most of the people around here didn’t know sign language, Isaac was the one who acted as an interpreter and translator most of the time. Despite being two years younger than Henry. 

Henry shoved those thoughts away. It was Halloween, he is trick-or-treating with his brother, at the end there would be lots of sweets for them both, and it was supposed to be fun. He should do his best to enjoy the night out. 

Mum and dad never let them stay up this late normally. 

They passed by pumpkins and lanterns, ghosts made of cloth and paper. Fake spiders the size of footballs. The people wearing masks, make-up, and funny costumes. It was funny how for just a small part of the year, the orderly and clean placed they lived in changed with the addition of so many creepy and colourful decorations. It was nearly unrecognisable at night. 

Each house they stopped by gave him and his brother similar reactions. The women cooed over how cute they were, and the men smiled in amusement. If they lingered too long or the people were more observant, then Henry’s silence would be noted. Some just assumed he was dedicated to his role, others would say something. Henry wasn’t sure what exactly. It changed a bit each time and he didn’t need to know, he could guess well enough from the facial expressions and body language. Then Isaac would jump in to defend him (like always) and things got awkward. Parents scolded their children, the mothers gave him pitying looks, and the fathers gave his parents pitying looks. 

He hated that part. 

His family might live on this street, but Henry wasn’t well known by the other children and parents. He attended a different school and wasn’t good at making new friends. Too often kids that weren’t deaf or that didn’t have anyone close to them who was deaf simply didn’t know what to do with him. Not once they were old enough to realise that there was something different about him. 

It got tiring fast. Henry wasn’t sure how many more houses he wanted to visit. Isaac was having fun though. And he had been looking forward to this night for weeks. Henry didn’t want to spoil it for him. He started to trail behind a bit. 

They got to number four and the rest of his family kept on going but Henry stopped. There were no decorations out the front of the house and there was a sign up on the front door telling people to stay away. It was a known fact that the Dursleys didn’t celebrate Halloween. But the front lights were on and Henry could see that someone, some kid, was seated on the front lawn. Curious, Henry walked over. 

The boy had to be close to him in age and he was familiar, but Henry couldn’t remember a name. The boy was wrapped in a blanket and curled up on a fold out chair. There was a large plastic container on the ground in front of him. He had jet black hair and piercing green eyes. 

The nephew! That’s who the boy was. And his name was Harry something-or-rather. Henry knew the first name only because it was so close to his own. What was he doing though?

He waved at him. Harry waved back immediately. 

Feeling encouraged Henry walked closer to Harry and peered into the container on the ground. Inside was a tin of napkins, a kitchen knife, and a cake of some kind. Henry wasn’t sure. He looked back up at the other boy. 

Harry then pointed at him, brought his hand back towards his chest, swept his hand down and out, and then brought it back up to his mouth with the fingertips touching.   
“You want food?” Harry had asked him in BSL. 

Henry was shocked. He hadn’t known that anyone outside his family knew sign language in this area. Though Harry was a little clumsy with his signs. He lifted his hand up, pointer finger extended. He waggled it while making a confused face. Then touched his fingers tips together and brought it close to his mouth. 

“What food?” It was too dark to see what kind of food it was in the container. Henry wasn’t allergic to anything, but he wanted to know what it was before he asked for some.   
Harry then finger spelled the next part. It was clear now from his speed that he wasn’t fluent in BSL. Still, it was more than most people around here. 

“S-u-l-t-a-n-a b-r-e-a-d.”

Henry thought for a moment. Sultana bread sounded nice. He brought his flat hand up to his chin and then moved it down and away from his body.   
“Please.” Is what he meant, but that same sign also means “thanks”. 

Harry then cut him a piece of the bread and served it to him on a napkin. 

It was … delicious. Much better than any other sultana bread he had ever tried. 

Harry suddenly sat up straight. He waved his hand to someone behind Henry and was saying something to them. 

Henry turned around and saw his family quickly coming over. Oh. Oops? He hadn’t meant to worry them. 

He thought for sure that he would get into trouble for wandering off, but Harry did a masterful job of distracting his parents and plying everyone with sultana bread. Henry would have to keep an eye out for that kid in the future. He looked like he would make a good friend, and Henry could teach him more signs.


	2. The Schofield Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another side story from Baking. This one’s shorter though. 
> 
> I like the idea of providing more of a background to the other residents of Privet Drive and the surrounding area. We don't get much in canon, other than the names of the people in Dudley's gang. 
> 
> Surely, not everyone was entirely awful to Harry.

**The Schofield family, from number eight Wisteria Walk**

Harry walked past the grey picket fence, up the driveway, and over to the white painted front door. He rang the buzzer and waited patiently. He heard a small dog barking loudly and the skittering of paws on polished wood. Harry shifted the basket he was carrying onto one arm, so he could scratch his nose. He couldn’t quite believe he was doing this. Dillan Zhou was going to have to lend him his bike repeatedly over the summer break in exchange for helping the girl Dillan had developed a small crush on. Uhh. Harry had hoped he’d still have a few years before his peers started feeling things for each other. 

“Just a minute!” A woman’s voice called. “Come here Piccolo.” She said firmly, to the dog that was barking at the door Harry realised. 

The barking stopped after a moment, and there was a rustling just behind the door before it opened. 

It was opened by a woman in her mid-thirties. Her hair was braided neatly, and she was wearing dark grey trousers and a bright yellow blouse. There was a small dog tucked under her arm, a Bichon Frise from the looks of it; the one named Piccolo. 

“Mrs Schofield?” He asked, though he was certain that it was her. Davina looked a lot like her mother. 

“Yes? Can I help you?” She asked politely. Harry gave her a relaxed smile. 

“I hope it can be the other way around ma’am. You see, I heard that Davina really liked the candied ginger I shared around last month. So, I brought some more, and copied the recipe down in case you ever wanted to make more in the future.” He explained while showing her the basket he had brought with him. It held the recipe card he’d made and then laminated, as well as a cup full of candied ginger. 

Mrs Schofield’s eyes lit up. 

“Ah! So, you’re the one. Yes, Davina has been gushing over those sweets for weeks now. I tried to buy more, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Thank you so much,” She said, smiling at him. 

“You’re welcome ma’am,” He said. He turned around to leave. 

“Wait. Before you go. What’s your name?” He turned back to face her. Having his name known to the locals, and having it paired with the good deeds that he did, was always a beneficial thing as far as he was concerned. It opened new opportunities for him and made it so that there wouldn’t be a repeat of Tom Riddle’s experience if anyone ever asked around for information about him. 

“It’s Harry Potter ma’am.”


	3. The Deacons Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of posting on the main story I’m posting this side story from Dancing because it’s a long one. It’s more background information about the Deacons family who became friends with Harry without him being fully aware of it. It’s written from four different points of view, one for each member of the family. Enjoy.

**The Deacons family, from number 59 Victoria Way**

**Annabelle Deacons**

Annabelle Deacons had been dancing ballet since she was four years old and she was very good at it. She’d started ballet because her Aunt Sophia was a professional ballet dancer, and she wanted to be like her when she grew up. 

At first, she had been tutored by one of her Aunt’s students, who was also her part-time nanny. Adriana was a good teacher. She was one of seven children and knew a lot about working with and teaching kids. When Annabelle turned five however, things changed. Her parents thought that it was time she got used to learning alongside her peers and they enrolled her into group classes at a regular dance school. 

Group work was fun most of time. Annabelle did believe that dancing looked much better when it was a group of people doing it together, but it was frustrating when someone kept getting their part wrong. She had also been adjusting to school at the time, and prior to that everything had been taught to her when she was on her own, or with perhaps three others. A class with 20 or more people on it was daunting. It also made her wonder how a teacher was meant to invest enough time and attention into each student to get them to be their best. 

The answer to that was there was no universal way of doing it, and some people did it better than others. 

Dancing ballet was still lots of fun, and though it took her a few weeks to find her comfort zone, she did soon make friends in her class. 

She very clearly remembered the day Harry Potter joined the class. She had not been happy about it. Of course, she knew that they needed more boys in the class. There were twice the number of girls than boys, and the girls often had to wait around for a boy to be available to partner with them. But she was seven and a half, and sometimes she made up her mind too quickly. Everyone who was still in the group took ballet seriously. They’d all been dancing since they were five or six at the latest. Now there was a new student joining them? Who admitted that he had never learned ballet before? She’d thought he’d drag them down for weeks before he got a clue and quit. 

Thankfully, she was wrong. About all of it. 

For someone without experience in ballet, Harry was very strong and flexible. He didn’t complain or struggle through the stretches, and he kept up throughout the warm up and practice without tiring (much). He was a little uncoordinated, and he clearly hadn’t been lying about not knowing ballet. He learned quickly though. He was fluent in French too, which probably helped him learn the moves quicker than most. He took instruction from the teacher well and learned how to be graceful and confident in his movements within a matter of weeks. 

He was also a nice person she thought. It wasn’t just a matter of manners (which he had, more so than most of the boys his age), he was also observant of the people around him and good at understanding them. He was the one who noticed that Mikaela was too quiet that day after her dog Spencer had died. No one else had noticed that she wasn’t talking like normal; that she was more withdrawn. Annabelle had thought that something was different about her friend, but she hadn’t known what or what to do. Harry had figured it out though and had immediately placed himself by Mikaela’s side. He’d acted as a barrier between her and some of the other people whose noise levels were a bit too much, and when Madame had scolded Michele and the girl had burst into tears it had been Harry who pulled Mikaela aside and sat with her for nearly twenty minutes. Annabelle had only found out about Spencer a few days later. Harry was what her mother would call “compassionate”. 

It was after seeing what he did for Mikaela that Annabelle decided she had to become friends with Harry. That was easier said than done however. 

Harry was always polite, but he didn’t speak much. He’d say “hello” and “goodbye” to everyone, but unlike many of the others he didn’t hang around to talk or play. And she never saw his parents with him. Which was odd. 

She got her mother to have a chat with Madame about him. Her mother could get anyone to talk. That was how she found out that Harry’s parents had died, and that he was being raised by his aunt and her family. She tried to imagine what she would do if her parents suddenly died and she was left with Jack to go and live with one of their aunts or uncles. It was a scary thought. 

The good news was that once her mother had heard about Harry’s circumstances and Annabelle’s desire to befriend him, she was fully onboard to help. She pointed out to Annabelle that though Harry didn’t reach out to people to play or talk with him, he never refused someone who asked him to join them. So, Annabelle tried to include Harry as much as possible. 

It didn’t always work. 

Talking to him about tv shows or movies didn’t work. Harry didn’t watch much tv or go to the cinemas often enough to know what she was talking about. He’d listen to her talk, but he couldn’t offer anything, and Annabelle couldn’t talk forever. Well, she probably could. She’d feel awful if she did though. Harry had read a lot of books however, and he knew many things. Annabelle quickly figured out that she could mention that she was interested in something, like an animal, or say she wanted to learn about something like thunderstorms, or she could just ask him a random question like, “Could staying awake too long actually kill you?”. Then Harry would start talking. Not the minimal polite things he’d say to everyone else, or the questions he’d ask Madame when he didn’t understand something, but he’d start talking lots. Harry always knew something about whatever topic she picked, and if by some miracle he didn’t, by the next lesson he would. 

Talking to him about school didn’t work either. Harry didn’t go to school. He learned what he needed to from his aunt or from the library. He didn’t even have tutors or anything. It was at this point that her mother gently explained to her that some people had a lot less money than others, and that the most likely reason Harry was receiving a home-education was because it was cheaper. Annabelle had felt guilty, but also really glad that she hadn’t invited him any of the usual weekend outings she took with her family and friends. Harry probably wouldn’t be able to come even if he wanted to. That would be sad. She didn’t agree with her mother that money was the main reason that Harry did go to school though. She thought he was too smart for normal school. 

Talking was only getting her so far, she decided that she needed to act. The easiest plan she could come up with was to just invite him to her birthday party, so that’s exactly what she did. 

**Allan Deacons**

Allan considered himself to be a very fortunate and successful man. He had a beautiful woman by his side, who was the love of his life and an amazing wife. He had two healthy, talented, and intelligent children. He was the CEO of an electricity company, one that he had inherited from his father, and the money he made was more than enough to provide for himself and his family. 

He was also a simple man. At least compared to his wife, Joanna. She spent her time mostly volunteering and networking. She was the one who understood and made use of the complicated social dances. Allan always thought that if she went into politics she’d annihilate the competition. He’d been with her for long enough to recognise the glint in her eye that said she had a plan in motion. 

Now, usually that glint indicated that she was moving people around for someone’s benefit. Joanna was like that. She could read people like a book, and she always liked helping the underdogs. Never the less that look always made him nervous. It was also his cue to back away so that he wasn’t involved in whatever was going on. 

The problem with this strategy appeared when he walked in one day to find that both his wife and his seven-year-old daughter had the same glint in their eyes. 

Doomed. He was doomed. The world in fact, was probably doomed. 

He’d sat down with them and had his breakfast. Drank his coffee. Waited until the children had left with the nanny who walked them to school before he turned to his wife to ask. Because with both working together on something, he had to at least be somewhat aware of what was going on. 

“Jo? What are you and Annabelle up to?” He asked as she began putting on her final touches of make-up. 

“Hmm? Oh, that. Well, Annie has a classmate in ballet that she’s eager to befriend. I’ve been giving her a bit of advice,” She had a gift for understatement that only came out when it was least likely to be believed, and a slightly warped sense of humour. She wanted him to pry. 

“And?” He asked, after she remained quiet for too long. 

“What do you mean ‘and’?” She asked, giving him a perfectly raised eyebrow as she slipped her feet into her shoes. 

“You wouldn’t be this invested if it were something so simple,” He felt like he was pointing out the obvious. 

“Her classmate is… special. What makes it complicated is that he is so different from the kinds of people Annie usually associates with. She must change her approach if she wants to befriend him. It’s challenging for her.” She bent down and clipped her shows on before she continued. 

“His name’s Harry, and he’s a little younger than our Annie. He’s an orphan, and he only joined the dance club about three months ago. Yet, he’s nearly caught up with the others.”

Allan blinked at that. It was impressive. The class was no beginners class. All the parents who signed their children up there expected great things. 

“One of your charity cases then?” He asked, not meaning it in a negative way. 

“Partly. I do think he’ll be good for Annie. He’s quite mature for his age and he demonstrates a lot of emotional awareness. No one else is trying to cultivate this, he’s from a much less wealthy family you see. He has a lot of potential.” Madame Teresa was probably letting him pay special rates then. Students from low income homes could negotiate a lower price, so long as they proved committed and able to dance. 

“Alright then. Let me know if I need to do anything to help your scheming,” He knew better than to try and stop of her, and this one at least could have been a lot worse. 

“Thanks honey. I love you.” She lent in and gave him a kiss. 

“Love you too.” He replied, and they had both gone off to work.

* * *

Months later he was informed that Harry had been invited to Annabelle’s birthday party. He was given the job of opening the door and welcoming people while his wife stayed out back with the children. 

Parents were invited to stay if they wanted to, but as all the children were between seven and eight years of age, most parents were comfortable leaving them. It meant a bit more work for them both, but if someone kept an eye on the pool they should be fine. 

The doorbell rang and he pulled it open. For a second, he thought no one was there until he looked down. There was a boy. A box wrapped in pink under one arm and an invitation in the other. He had black hair, cut very short, and the brightest green eyes Allan had ever seen. There was also a faded scar on his forehead that was a little curious.   
Allan had been expecting the child to be accompanied by an adult, but he recovered quickly when the boy spoke. 

“Hello Mr Deacons. My name’s Harry Potter and I’m here for Annabelle’s birthday party.”

He remembered what Joanna had said about mature, but he couldn’t believe that the boy’s guardians had actually decided to leave him before he got to the front door. Didn’t they want to meet the parents they were leaving him with? What if they had the address wrong? 

The boy also looked out of his depth, and a little intimidated. Allan relaxed his posture and softened his tone slightly. 

“Right this way Harry. She’s in the back with the others,” He stepped aside to let the boy through. 

“Thank you, sir,” Whoever his guardians were, at least they had raised him to be polite. 

**Joanna Deacons**

Joanna had a penchant for manipulation. She didn’t do it for power though, nor for any kind of cheap thrill. She’d been born into a very privileged Christian family and had grown up regularly attending and helping in charity events. Seeing other people smile in delight, helping the good and hardworking kinds of people find the connections to get them to where they wanted to be, and helping young people find their strengths and skills; that was her bread and butter. 

Sometimes it had gotten her into trouble. Sometimes she’d miscalculated, she tried to force things to happen the way she thought they should happen rather than listening to what God was telling her. She got better as the years went by. Better at listening and reading people, better at taking more moderate approaches, and better at stepping away when she realised that she wasn’t helping at all. 

Annabelle had inherited this trait from her, but that was okay because she knew what to look out for and what advice to give her daughter if she ever asked. She had tried to make it abundantly clear to both her children that they could speak to her at any time, about anything, and she would do her best to help and not judge. 

Joanna was delighted when she realised her daughter had picked her first “mission”, if you will. It was to make friends with a boy who had only recently joined the dance group. She’d seen the boy around the place before but had noticed a startling trend with him. He was nearly always alone. No sign of a parent or guardian, and no signs of any friends either. 

She hadn’t had any issues pulling the dance instructor aside to ask a few innocuous questions about Harry. The answers she got was surprising. Teresa had been trilling about the boy. He wasn’t just new to the dance club, he was new to dance. Yet, just a few weeks in and he was comfortably in the middle of the class in terms of ability. Teresa wasn’t one to needlessly compliment students, so Harry must be very promising indeed. Joanna also got to hear more about the boy’s background. He was an orphan, one who came from a lower-class background. Teresa said that the boy’s aunt had signed him up for classes but hadn’t been seen since then except to hand over money on one occasion. She also warned Joanna that the woman was a thoroughly unpleasant sort. 

More reason for her daughter to befriend Harry then. She would be a positive influence. 

She left the active part of the plan to Annabelle. It wouldn’t be right for her to directly interfere in her daughter’s attempts at befriending someone her own age. It was also a good way for her to push her abilities. Annabelle had grown up very sheltered, and there was no doubt in Joanna’s mind that Harry, even as young as he was, had seen some things that no child should. 

That kind of maturity that he displayed didn’t grow spontaneously. 

Months passed. Still Harry turned up to and left dance without an adult ever accompanying him. He now brought envelopes containing the money to pay for classes all by himself. Joanna watched him. Watched his bafflement when other children included him in their games, watched his often-long periods of silence. Her heart broke for him. No child should be that lonely. 

When Annabelle threw caution to the wind and invited Harry to her birthday party Joanna was concerned. Harry was a very self-contained child most of the time. Sometimes Annabelle had managed to bring him out into vibrancy, but only rarely. And all that progress might mean nothing if the party was too much for him. Another concern was what he would buy for her. Harry obviously didn’t have much in the way of money and putting him on the spot to get Annabelle something she wanted was a lot to ask. Joanna did pull her daughter aside the morning before her party to warn her that Harry’s gift might be very small but that she was to thank him just the same regardless. Annabelle had surprised her when she said that she wasn’t going to care. She just really hoped that Harry came like he said he would. Her girl was growing up with so much kindness in her heart. 

Harry came to the birthday just like he had promised to. He’d been a bit shy in joining in, but once Annabelle took his hand he’d started having fun. She saw him laughing at multiple points throughout the party and talking much more animatedly than usual. He didn’t just entertain her daughter, he entertained the other guests too. Many of which he’d never met or hardly spoken to before. She was very impressed with him. For such a shy boy to really step out of his comfort zone… It was a wonderful sign. 

The time to open the presents came. Annabelle was in fine form this year and once again didn’t need any instruction from her parents. She picked a present at random, opened the card to see who it was from, opened the present, and then thanked the person who had given it to her. Joanna watched Harry, who seemed the most nervous she had ever seen him. He sat in the circle, visibly fidgeting, which he never did in class. 

“Someone really needs to give that boy a hug.” She muttered to herself under her breath. 

Annabelle got to Harry’s present and opened it with the same excitement she had opened everything else. She pulled out something black and purple, it was shiny, and Joanna had no idea from where she was standing what it was. None of the children were giving a negative reaction though. Her daughter pulled Harry into a fast hug, unknowingly following her mother’s desires. After a moment of slight hesitation Harry hugged her back and relaxed significantly. 

After the party was over she walked in on Annabelle wearing Harry’s gift, which she could now see was a vest. One that was made up of purple scales and knitted black wool. It was like nothing she had ever seen, and she asked her daughter if she knew where Harry had gotten it from. 

Annabelle laughed and told her that Harry had knitted it himself, just like he knits his other jumpers. 

“This one just has special scales threaded on between each loop!” She’d explained to her stunned mother. 

Later that night she’d spoken with her husband about Harry. Allan mentioned that the boy had shown up on their door alone, and she had discussed her theories on the possible neglect that was going on and what she’d seen from him over the last few months. He agreed that her concerns were valid but warned her that unless they got evidence there was little that the law could do. Charging in would only put Harry at risk. 

Then she’d shown him Annabelle’s new vest. 

“How was this made?” He was running his hands over it, marvelling over the texture of the scales and the way they moved. 

“Knitted black wool, with plastic scales threaded on during the knitting process,” She said, still trying to believe it herself. 

“Where did he get this?” The wonder in his voice clear as day. It was a beautiful piece of clothing. 

“Annabelle says he made it. I don’t think she’s wrong,” Allan looked up at her in disbelief. 

“This is incredible… If he doesn’t end up in doing dance, he’ll have a career in fashion design.” Allan finished. 

Joanna agreed with that. 

**Jack Deacons**

Jack met Annie’s friend Harry at her eighth birthday party. He didn’t remember much from it. The clearest memory he had was of an older boy picking him up and swimming with him when he mistakenly went too far into the deep end of the pool. The next clearest memory was of bright green eyes watching him as he took a bite of cake. 

After that, Harry started coming around more and more. Jack liked him a lot. Harry didn’t treat him like a living doll the way some of Annie’s friends did, nor did he brush aside Jack’s questions like they were silly. Harry always gave John serious answers to serious questions. 

Jack taught Harry some important things too though, like how to ride a bicycle. Harry had never had a chance to ride one before or learn how. So, Jack got to teach him. Some things, like Greek, they got to teach each other. Jack thought it was amazing that Harry had been teaching himself Greek while Jack had just been learning at school. 

The other good thing about being around Harry was the presents. Jack knew that there was a lot more to Harry than that, but when on Christmas one morning he found out that Harry had given a hand-made and illustrated copy of Hansel and Gretel, his favourite fairy tale, he’d started crying. 

Harry always gave him cool things. Sometimes it was books, other times hand-made dolls/toys, and the rarest of all was clothing. For him at least. Annabelle got clothing all the time, but that was because she liked clothes and fashion and stuff. 

Jack really liked it when he had Harry’s attention, and when he impressed the other boy. Unfortunately, that mean that sometimes Jack took risks. Risks that, didn’t always pay off. Not exactly. 

Like that time that he tried jumping from the branch of a tree onto the roof of the house. He missed the landing and fell off the roof. He’d landed on the ground with a crack, and a scream, and then Harry had been there carefully picking him up without disturbing his arms. 

Harry had set him down and wrapped his arms around him. He’d held him tightly for a few minutes. Jack had been crying and Harry. Harry had started to sing. It wasn’t in a language that Jack recognised but the sounds were soothing, and within seconds of him hearing that song the pain had started to fade. Through bleary eyes Jack had watched in amazement as his arms straightened out and the bones healed completely. 

Harry then asked if he was okay now, which he was, and then Harry had asked him very seriously to tell no one what he’d seen. 

“I promise I won’t tell.” He had said, and he’d meant every word of it. 

Soon after his nanny came running over to ask if he was alright. He’d told her that he’d fallen but was fine now. She had still insisted that he come inside, and so he hadn’t been able to ask Harry any questions. 

But from that moment he’d known that Harry was very special. 

The next time he saw Harry he had to pretend that nothing had happened because Annabelle wouldn’t leave Harry alone. Harry seemed to see the struggle he was having, for he gave him a sympathetic look, but hurricane-Annie was in full swing. She’d been practicing the braiding techniques Harry had taught her on pieces of ribbon and she wanted to show him what she’d achieved. She also wanted him to braid her hair again. 

The next time Harry was over Jack had much more luck. It was a sleepover, and because they were both boys they got to share a room together. They’d eaten dinner and gotten ready for bed like normal, but after the lights were out, things changed. 

“Do you remember how I fixed your arms Jack?” Harry asked out of the blue. 

“Ye-yeah,” He was so surprised that he stuttered a bit. 

“And you kept your promise?”

“Yeah. Of course I did,” Jack was a little affronted that his idol thought that he would betray him like that after the other boy had healed him. 

“Thanks Jack.” Harry said, and then went quiet. Jack shifted a little in his bed. 

After a little while longer, Jack couldn’t keep his silence any longer. 

“Why do you keep it a secret?” He asked, keen to know why Harry wasn’t openly helping more people. 

“’Cos I’m not sure how people would react if they knew,” Harry answered without hesitation. 

“I understand… Can you do anything else with...” He hesitated with what word he should use to describe it. 

“My magic?” Harry filled in the end of his question. 

“Yeah. That,” He’d remember to call it that from now on. 

“Well, there’s one things that I can do that’s pretty cool.” Harry sat up in bed. Jack also sat up and moved closer. “Watch closely.” Harry said. 

Harry cupped his hands together and blew into them. Suddenly a glowing blue light was sitting in his hands. It was the shape of a ball, and slightly bigger than a tennis ball. Harry opened his hands up and it lifted out of his grasp to float about a hands’ width away from Harry’s nose. It stayed there for a few seconds and then flew off. 

It whizzed around the room, hovering near the bookcase for a few seconds, then zipping around to fly laps around the bed. It whooshed past Jack’s face, though he felt no air move as it passed him by. Then it was gone. 

“Wow,” Was all he said. 

“Pretty cool, right? Most of my magic only works when I need it to though,” Harry explained. 

“It’s still amazing.” Jack said. 

He lay back down on his bed and closed his eyes. There was something he should tell Harry. He turned back to face the other boy, but to his surprise he found that Harry was already asleep. 

Maybe next time then. 

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew in just the same way he’d seen Harry do it. 

What he hadn’t had the courage to tell Harry yet was that he could also make light in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like that twist at the end?


	4. The Lambert Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Quest. The story of Harry and the Lambert family.

**The Lambert family, from number 12 Privet Drive**

A few houses down from where Harry lived there was a small family that he held a soft spot for. They were the Lamberts. Damian and Natasha were the parents. They were a businessman and a writer respectively. Their son Jimmy was probably the closest thing Harry had had to a friend prior to Hogwarts in his previous childhood. Harry hadn’t been close to Jimmy, not really. But Jimmy had always been polite to him. Had never shied away from teaming up with him on group projects, and even his parents had never said a bad word about Harry. 

They were some of the least gossip interested people on the street. 

This was because Jimmy’s family travelled a lot. They weren’t around enough to become consumed in the little bubble that was this community. Dudley and his friends never got a chance to intimidate Jimmy because not only was Jimmy away a lot, but Jimmy also was fiercely independent. He didn’t like being told what to do, and he only listened to people that he respected. Dudley and his gang had never made it onto the list of people Jimmy Lambert respected. 

This was surprising given how often the Lamberts were invited to the social gatherings Petunia or her friends arranged. 

The Lamberts were wealthy. They only had one child, a son. And if they were religious, then they kept that close to their chests. This is the eyes of the Dursleys meant that they must be quite similar in other ways. They couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Mrs Lambert wrote a lot. She was a primary editor in a respected newspaper, she had written many articles for that newspaper and others, and she had authored a range of books. Romance novels, murder-mystery novels, and rather notable cookbook to name a few. Petunia thought that she could impress the other woman with her own cooking skills and with remarks that suggested that she had read Mrs Lambert’s novels. “Little hints for improvement” as Petunia liked to call it. 

It made Harry laugh because it did nothing but prove her own ignorance and demonstrate her arrogance. 

Mrs Lambert had only written one cookbook, and it had been done for charity. She liked food but wasn’t fussed by it. It didn’t matter how impressive the spread of food that Petunia prepared for her guests; none of it would appear in a new cookbook. The money that had been raised had all gone into a fund to help pay for scholarships for women starting tertiary education. 

Mrs Lambert’s novels, while not all to Harry’s tastes, were interesting reads. He had no doubt that they would be inspiring to the audiences that they were intended for. Her news articles might be perfectly neutral, but the feminist tones came through clearly in her fictional works. Petunia hadn’t picked up on that because she hadn’t read any of the books all the way through. Instead she had skimmed parts, or just read the blurbs in some cases. And it could be painfully obvious. 

Mr Lambert was a businessman that was very keen on having high professional and ethical standards. He didn’t think much of men who talked down to women, as Vernon did for anyone that wasn’t his wife or his sister. And while he didn’t say anything against racism when it appeared in conversation, he never joined in. He just got blank faced. Well, more blank faced than usual. Harry had once thought that Damian Lambert might be batman. 

He had been very young at the time. 

The Lamberts weren’t around as often as he would like though. It was nearly guaranteed that for three months of the year (at the very minimum) they would be out of the country for work. 

He doesn’t know when he made the decision but at some point, he decided that while they were away he’d take care of their garden. Watering the potted plants, mowing the small strip of lawn they had at night (with a spell), weeding and mulching the garden beds, pruning the bushes, and feeding the plants as needed. People saw him doing the work and just assumed that he was meant to be there and didn’t question him about it. 

Of course, the Lamberts did notice eventually that something was going on. It was hard not to when they came back to find their garden looking better than what it had when they had left it. Harry heard Mrs Lambert joke about “garden fairies” doing the work for her on occasion. It had been enough to make him laugh once again, and he had decided to keep on going with the gardening while they were away. 

It was a few years before Mr Lambert caught him in the act as it were. Harry had stood there frozen, not sure what to do. How had he failed to hear a car approaching while he was working? Mr Lambert had just looked at him and bluntly told him:

“If we’d known it was you, we would have paid you for the work.”


	5. The Burnell Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stories about the family that was mentioned in Needles. For me, writing good dialogue is one of the hardest parts of writing a story. So, I decided to challenge myself with this one. There’s a lot more dialogue than I’m used to. Warning. : mentions of child abuse

**The Burnell family, from number 121 The Green**

**Dr Robert Burnell**

Robert took a seat at the restaurant table. He was a little earlier than the agreed time, so he wasn’t surprised to see that his friend hadn’t arrived yet. Allan Deacons was the CEO of a sizable company. He spent his work days living off his calendar and wristwatch. Robert, being a renowned surgeon, wasn’t much better in that regard. 

Getting their workloads to line up so they could go out for lunch was nearly impossible. However, they made the effort. The two of them had been close friends since their high school days, and despite the different directions life had pulled them, they were still close. 

“Robbie.” He looked up to see that Allan had arrived. He smiled and stood up. 

“Hey Al, it’s good to see you mate.” And they shock hands before sitting down. 

“You too Rob. So, how’s life been treating you?”

* * *

“Annabelle’s made a friend from her dance group. His name’s Harry and he’s the same age as your twins. He’s a great kid. Polite, intelligent, has a good head on his shoulders… But I strongly suspect that there’s something wrong with his home life,” Allan said to him when they were finished with their meal. 

“I take it you don’t have any evidence?” He asked, just to be sure. 

“Nothing I could go to the police about or I’d already be doing that. I’ve seen some signs though, some indications that something isn’t quite right. I’m planning on inviting him to the Easter celebration my wife and I hold. Would you be willing to take a look at the boy there?”

“I’m a surgeon Al,” He protested. He worked with people who were unconscious most of the time; he wasn’t qualified for what his friend was asking. 

“I know, but I’m not asking for treatment or a diagnosis here. I just think that you’re more likely to spot a problem if there is one. Then we can make a call on whether to get the police involved. I don’t want to scare the boy, or worse, put him in danger,” Allan explained. Robert realised that his friend looked tired all of a sudden. This issue had been building for a long time then. 

“You think it’s that bad?” He asked, dreading the answer. 

“I’m not ruling out the possibility. What I do know is that it’s been nearly a year since Harry first came over for Annabelle’s birthday party. He’s been over a lot more since, and in that time I’ve yet to meet his guardians. Even Joanna, who attends nearly all the dance classes the children share, hasn’t met them.” Allan answered. 

Robert blinked. He was a father of three children and he couldn’t imagine having any of them go to a friend’s house without meeting at least one of the parents or guardians before he left them. Not even his eldest who was nearly in his teens. 

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

Robert stepped to the side as a group of young children came running through the walkway he had been standing in. The Deacons’ Easter party was an event for those that were invited to it. It was always loud, cheerful, and filled with people. Hence why it was mostly hosted outside. 

Robert’s wife and children were also somewhere in this mess of people. His brood and Allan’s had very much grown up together. They were like cousins in a way, and both sets of parents were delighted by this. 

He could see his wife Sandra was standing beside the food table, talking to Joanna (Allan’s wife), Simone (one of Allan’s colleagues), and Jennifer (the pastor’s wife). He turned his gaze back towards the lawn where the children had gathered. 

A group of boys had set up a football match on part of the lawn. No wait, his daughter Audrey was there too. It looked like she was leading one of the teams. That really shouldn’t surprise him. 

Audrey’s twin brother was nowhere to be seen, as he had disappeared into the jumping castle earlier. His other son William was sitting underneath a tree. The boy looked to be entertaining a small crowd of younger children with “magic” tricks.

And just over there, close to the pool deck, was a young boy with jet black hair and startling green eyes. Harry Potter, the boy that his friend wanted him to assess. 

Near to the boy was a collection of currently unoccupied chairs. Moving casually Robert chose the one that was in the shade as well, and consequently close to where Harry was lying down on the grass. The boy looked up at him, something in that gaze was arresting, and Robert felt a bizarre sensation travel up his spine. Those eyes showed intelligence, and by the raising of his hairs he knew that it was he who was being assessed. 

He was found to be uninteresting though because Harry soon looked away. He appeared to be disinterested. 

“Hello.” He said, trying to feel as relaxed on the inside as he was on the outside. Up close he could see that Harry looked well, as best he could tell at this distance. His skin had a healthy flush to it and there were no visible cuts or bruises. It could be hard to tell with children sometimes, boys especially, as they were more likely to play rough. Harry also looked to be of a healthy weight. There was chubbiness to his cheeks and his limbs weren’t too skinny. Again, it was a bit hard with some children, as they come in many shapes and sizes and experience frequent growth spurts. Skinny children may have just recently grown a bit taller. Chubbier children may be getting ready to grow a lot. 

“Hello sir. You’re Nathan’s father, yes?” Harry asked. Robert was surprised by the question. He leaned forward a bit in his chair. 

“Yes. How did you know?” He asked. Allan had said the boy was intelligent but that might have been an understatement. Harry still looked calm. 

“You have the same cheek bones and nose.” Harry answered as if it were obvious. He was still lying down on the grass rather than sitting up. Did this mean he really was comfortable with him? Or did he not believe that Robert was a potential threat with so many eyes potentially watching? Abuse victims are normally very defensive. They wouldn’t let an unknown man sit above them while they lay down on the ground. 

“You’re very observant,” He complimented Harry sincerely. “Many people have commented that of my children he is the one who looks least like me. My name’s Dr Burnell. What’s yours?”

“Harry Potter. I’m one of Annabelle’s friends.” Was that last part tacked on to defend his right to be at this party? Or was he simply explaining his connection to the Deacons? Harry’s tone and body language didn’t say he was nervous, but he could be masking it. He gave the boy a nod to show that he believed him. 

“Have you known her for long?” He then asked. Harry’s teeth, hair, and nails were clean and well taken care of. No obvious nutrient deficiencies then. Did he have regular visits to a dentist? Probably. 

“About a year and a half, but we’ve been friends for less than that,” Harry answered after some thought. 

“Not going to tell me precisely how long you’ve been friends for?” He meant it jokingly but was trying to keep the conversation going. Harry seemed to take his question seriously though. 

“No. I only realised Annabelle thought me a friend a few weeks after she considered me such. I wouldn’t want to give anything exact in case I hurt her feelings.” Harry answered plainly. 

Robert blinked. 

“How come you didn’t notice?” He asked, doing his best not to sound disbelieving or judgemental. Was Harry possibly autistic? Missing social cues, not demonstrating emotional attachment in standard ways, and being very direct and logical in their thinking were common signs of autism. 

“I was only seeing her once a week, and we don’t get much time to talk in ballet. The teacher is very strict. I was surprised when I got the birthday invite,” Harry’s answer was understandable, but he wouldn’t dismiss the autism theory just yet. 

“Are your parents here?” He asked. It was possibly cruel to ask given that he knew they were deceased, but he couldn’t think of what else to ask that was appropriate. 

“No. They died when I was a baby.” That explained the lack of emotional attachment to them then. If Harry had been a baby when they died, then he wouldn’t remember them at all. You can’t be as attached when all you have is other peoples’ recollections of a person rather than your own. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” He said it genuinely, making sure he had eye contact when he did. 

“You really mean that. Huh, most people just say it out of habit.” Harry responded. Robert mentally marked autism as “less likely”. Most people with autism would struggle to pick out whether a question was genuine or not. 

“I’m a surgeon Harry. I work with a lot of sick and injured people. Sometimes, they don’t survive. I then must tell their families. It’s never been easy to do, nor has it gotten easier the longer I did it.” Normally he wouldn’t say as much to a child. He was nearly certain though that Harry would benefit from his honesty. 

“That sounds hard Dr Burnell.” And he paid close attention to that as it was the first time Harry had used his name. He wasn’t sure what the significance of it was, but he knew that it was significant. 

“It is. But each life I save makes up for it,” He explained with conviction. 

“Did you always want to be a surgeon when you were growing up sir?” Harry asked him without being prompted. Now he was getting somewhere. 

“No. I was interested in medicine, but I always thought I’d be a regular sort of doctor. But then I found out that I was better at performing surgery. My professor said I had the steadiest hands he’d ever seen.” Robert smiled at the memory. “What about you Harry? Do you know what you’d like to do when you grow up?”

“I think I want to be a teacher,” Harry answered after a moment of hesitation. 

“That’s an important job.” He meant that honestly too. Teachers weren’t paid enough for the trouble they went to in trying to help people, young and old, learn. It was unusual answer coming from a child who didn’t attend school though. 

The chiming of an ice cream truck interrupted their conversation. Of course, Allan would have booked an ice cream truck to come by during the party. There were at least 30 children running around who would benefit from one. Robert stood up and offered his hand to Harry. 

“Want to go get some ice cream?” 

“I didn’t bring any money,” Harry answered, and Robert was confused for a second. He didn’t understand what Harry was talking about at first. Then it dawned on him. 

“It’s just an ice cream. I’ll pay for you,” He assured the boy. The money was insignificant, and he’d never expect a child so young to pay for himself. 

“Okay.” 

Harry reached up and took his hand. 

**William Burnell**

William exited the cinema with a smile on his face. “Star Wars” was an excellent movie series. Everyone loved it in some fashion. And it happened to be one of those movies which was better on a big screen. He didn’t mind having to look after his twin siblings and their friend for the day either. He liked being a teenager. He was free to go places by himself, was trusted to look after the gaggle of eight-year old kids, and all he needed to do was tell one of his parents roughly where he was going and to be back before dark. 

The younger kids had enjoyed the movie too. Audrey was bounding around making lightsabre noises and fighting mock enemies, Nathan was finishing the last of the popcorn, having been too entranced by the movie to eat it all during the film, and their friend Harry was showing the biggest smile William had ever seen him give. 

“Oi Freak! What are you doing here?” A loud voice called out. The smile on Harry’s face vanished. William turned in the direction of the kid who had yelled. 

There was a blonde boy standing near the wall with three other boys his age. The blonde had squinty eyes, a bright red shirt, and a pudgy face that was only the beginning of all the excess weight he carried. That couldn’t be healthy. The boy to his right was taller, and much thinner. He had short brown hair and a football cap. To the blonde’s left was a shorter boy, this time with long brown hair and a bottle of opened Coca-Cola in his hand. There was another kid to Coca-Cola’s left, one who wore a sneer on his face and glasses. They were all around the same age as Harry and the twins. 

“You talking to us Fatty?” Nathan yelled back. William winced. 

Audrey had stopped bouncing around. She stalked up to stand beside her twin, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at the group of boys. Harry then joined her. 

“I don’t know Dudders, what do people come to a cinema to do?” Harry asked mockingly. 

The one called “Dudders” turned red. The other boys scowled at them. 

William could see that this might devolve into a fight, so he joined his siblings and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Being 13 years old he was significantly bigger than any of the other kids. 

He saw the moment the group of boys backed down. Their shoulders dropped, and they left without another word. 

“Let’s go guys.” William said. He didn’t know if any of the staff had been watching what just happened, but it was probably a good idea to leave now before anyone asked them any questions. 

Whatever good mood they’d been feeling before was rather muted on the walk back to their house. Audrey and Nathan were giving Harry concerned looks, but the boy wasn’t responding. That was unusual. Harry was normally good at non-verbal cues. William decided he should be the one to ask. 

“How did you know those kids Harry?” He asked. Harry was silent for a moment before he answered. 

“The blonde one is my cousin Dudley,”

“You’re cousin! But you look nothing alike,” Audrey expressed her shock and disbelief. It really was hard to picture it. Except for the similar skin tone, the two of them looked nothing alike. 

“His mum has blonde hair, and his father has blue eyes. If it weren’t for the extra weight Dudley has then you’d probably see some similarities in our faces,” Harry answered looking amused. 

“Oh.” She muttered. Harry took her hand and gave a small smile. 

“I don’t mind that we look different. In fact, I rather like it. The boys with him are part of his ‘gang’ as he likes to call it,”

“Why did he call you a ‘freak’?” Nathan then asked. It was obvious that the word had been designed to hurt. 

“Because he resents having me around. You know how I’m an orphan, right?” Harry then checked, as he looked at each of them. 

“Yeah. Our mum told us,” William answered for all of them. 

“Okay, that saves me explaining it. Well, I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. They are the closest family I have that’s still alive. Dudley’s only six weeks older than me and is an only child… When I came along it was like being given a twin almost, except there had been no warning and his parents hadn’t been prepared either. Toddlers aren’t the best at sharing anyway, but the sudden reality that he had to share his parents, his toys, his food, and his space with me didn’t go down well… We just, don’t get along, even now. His biggest issue with me currently is that he has to go to school, but I don’t,” 

“Haven’t his parents done something about it?” William asked, stunned. He couldn’t imagine not caring about his siblings, even if they hadn’t been his siblings technically. But if you live in the same house as someone and are raised together from a young age you should consider each other as siblings. That just is how it worked, right?

“No, not really. They took me in because they felt obligated to, not because they cared. Or were prepared to care. Dudley gets a lot more attention and stuff than I do. He’s spoiled, but still jealous of me.” Harry explained with a shrug. He really didn’t seem bothered. 

What the hell. That was so messed up. He’d be telling his parents about this later. 

“Doesn’t that make you angry?” Nathan asked. 

“Not anymore. I don’t like my aunt and uncle very much. I don’t think I’m missing out on anything valuable.”

There was silence for a few minutes. They had to cross a busy road, walk past a few cafes that had people sitting outside, and there was a lot for William and his siblings to take in. 

“Why do they send Dudley to school but not you?” Audrey then asked. That detail had been bugging William too. 

“Well, not to brag but I’ve been reading chapter books since I was four years old. They were concerned that I would be bored at school, and so had me at home for the first year. Just to see how I went. I did fine. I enjoy learning and reading, and so I’m very easy for my aunt to teach. Dudley though, he doesn’t like reading. Or anything other than video games, tv shows, food, and causing trouble with his friends. If he wasn’t sent off to school then he’d sit around doing absolutely nothing,”

“Ugh, I can only imagine having to sit near him in class,” Audrey said with a groan. There was also one kid in a class that you didn’t want to be near, but Dudley was probably one of the worst. 

“Huh, yeah. I feel sorry for the teachers and the other kids,” Nathan added. 

“Does he cause you a lot of problems?” William asked. Given that Harry lived in the same house as this kid there were a lot of opportunities for Dudley to make his life miserable. William wasn’t sure what he could do about it if that were the case, but he had to at least know if that was a problem. 

“Not as many as you think. My aunt and uncle do punish him if they catch him harassing me, and I’m quick on my feet. His gang can’t keep up if I run off. Not to mention, their group isn’t a popular one. Plenty of other kids in my neighbourhood will join in taking a stand if there’s enough of us.”

William thought for a moment. He’d been doing mixed martial arts for a few years now. He wasn’t an expert or anything, but he could probably give Harry a few tips at the very least. 

“Would you like me to teach you how to fight Harry?” He asked the other boy seriously. 

Harry looked up at him in surprise. There was a moment of silence as he thought about it. 

“Yes please.” Harry said. 

**Audrey Burnell**

Audrey was on the swings at the park with Harry. It was a bit too cold to be out at the park. That was why Nathan and William hadn’t joined them. 

However, this was a good thing, as she had something she wanted to talk to Harry about. She had found out through her brothers that Harry was good at listening and giving advice. And she needed some advice, preferably from someone she wasn’t related to. 

“What’s got you so worried Audrey?”

“Huh?”

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re worried about something,”

“My aunt is coming by this weekend. I don’t like her much,” She answered his question vaguely, but then thought better of it. “Can I ask for your advice Harry?”

“If you think it’ll be helpful.” He quipped light-heartedly. One look into his eyes showed that he would take anything she told him seriously though. She gave him a small smile. 

“Auntie Marissa has very strict views on what girls should wear and behave like. It doesn’t involve skidding through mud, playing contact sports, or running around in shorts instead of skirts,” She began to explain. 

“Those are all things you like to do,” Harry added. 

“Yes, exactly. But Auntie is clever. She never does or says anything where other people can witness it. So, to anyone else it looks like nothing’s happening! But I see the glares she gives me, the sneers and snide remarks. I can’t go to her for anything when I’m alone with her because no matter what it is I’m asking for, she won’t help me. I know, I know it’s not the worst thing in the world. I know things could be much worse. Every time she comes over though I get this feeling of fear and dread, and I know it’s silly. I know she hasn’t done anything to physically hurt me. But I don’t know what to do about it!” Audrey was shaking and nearly crying at the end of her outburst. Harry got off his swing and came over to give her a hug. He waited a few moments for her breathing to return to normal before he started to speak. 

“Okay… My first piece of advice, when dealing with anyone who is treating you unfairly or bullying you, is to tell someone. Someone who has your back. Your silence gives them power, it makes them think they have control. Don’t squeak like a mouse; roar like a lion. If I were you I’d be talking to your mum. She’s the one who attends most of your basketball and hockey matches, and she’s the one who buys you clothes from the boys’ section because you asked her to.” Harry’s voice was soothing she realised, and his plan sounded reasonable. 

She nodded. Mum was the one who supported her the most. Trouble was, talking to your mum about problems your having with her younger sister is awkward. 

“My second piece of advice concerns family. It’s important that you understand that just because someone shares blood with you doesn’t mean they’ll do the right thing by you. They might never do the right thing by you. Which leads into my third point, and this one took me awhile to understand. Good manners are a given, but respect is earned. Do you understand?” He asked her. 

She thought about it for a second than nodded. 

“I should say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ no matter whom I’m speaking to, but I don’t have to do or listen to anything my auntie says. Even though she’s a grown up, and my mum’s sister,” And wasn’t that a relief. 

“You got it,” Harry said with a smile. “I know that last one can be hard. Kids needing to listen to and obey grownups is something that’s taught to us early. But you gotta put your own wellbeing before all that. If an adult, any adult, is only interested in pushing you around and hurting you, then you leave. The rules be damned,”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks Harry.” She said. 

**Nathan Burnell**

Nathan watched Harry move around the kitchen with something close to awe. The other boy had agreed to bake chocolate chip cookies. It hadn’t been planned. Harry had said he was hungry, William had commented that he’d really like some cookies, and Harry had gone to the kitchen to investigate. Five minutes later he returned saying there were ingredients for chocolate chip, peanut butter, or plain cookies. Then he asked what they preferred. 

“Chocolate.” They’d said. It hadn’t even been a debate. 

So, now Harry was making them cookies. 

Nathan almost couldn’t believe it. Just a kid his age being so confident and comfortable in the kitchen that they could just decide to make something on the fly. He’d come with Harry to watch, while Audrey and William stayed out the back, playing backyard tennis. 

Harry turned the oven on and let it get warm. He used the electric mixer to combine the butter and sugar. He added the vanilla paste, milk, and egg, and then mixed it again. He stopped to add the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, and salt, which he had sifted first to the liquid mixture. This was gently beaten. Nathan got to add the chocolate chips next before Harry stirred it till it was combined. 

Together they spooned small amounts of the cookie dough onto the oven tray they’d lined with baking paper. Harry carefully put the tray in the oven and set the timer for 15 minutes. 

While the cookies were baking Harry washed the dishes and Nathan dried them. They worked quickly and quietly together. Chatting about the new dog the neighbours had gotten. About Audrey’s last basketball match. About his mum’s new car. There was something else on Nathan’s mind though. 

“What were your parents like?” He asked when he managed to build up the courage. It seemed like such a personal question, but no one seemed to know anything about Harry’s parents, so he was curious. 

“I…” Harry trailed off, looking surprised. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that,” Nathan apologised immediately. 

“It’s fine Nate. You must understand though, I was very young when they died. What I know about them is just what I’ve been told by other people,” 

“I feel like you always say you’re fine, even when you’re not,” He complained. 

“It’s a bad habit of mine,” Harry admitted. “To answer your question, their names were James and Lily Potter. My father had black hair and dark eyes, and he wore glasses because his vision was poor. My mother had red hair and bright green eyes. Eyes I have been told, that I’ve inherited from her. They were both 21 years old when they died. It happened in an accidental gas explosion,”

“Is that all you’ve been told about them?” Nathan asked, feeling very sad. That really wasn’t very much. 

“I know that my parents attended the same boarding school together and that that’s how they met. I know that they were Head Boy and Head Girl of their year. I also happen to know that my mother didn’t like my father until her last year at school. Beyond that, I don’t know much... My aunt doesn’t speak of her sister often. And it’s been made quite clear that she never liked my father to begin with,” Harry explained with a sigh. 

“Thanks for telling me Harry.” Nathan said. Harry didn’t look upset or anything, but Nathan still felt bad for bringing up the topic. 

Harry gave him a nod and a smile, and then the timer went off. 

**Professor Sandra Burnell**

Sandra is a proud bibliophile. It is a rather useful trait considering her status as a literature professor. What isn’t as useful was how possessive she sometimes got over her books. Having children had really pushed the boundaries in so far as nothing was quite as stressful as watching a young child, clumsy and often sticky, handle valuables. On one hand she wanted to protect her books, on the other she wanted her children to learn and to feel encouraged to read. 

Letting Harry Potter into her personal library hadn’t been as hard as she’d thought it would be. Harry was the first child that wasn’t related to her to be allowed to roam and borrow from her library. He took the trust he was shown very seriously and was adamant about returning books to her in the same state he had taken them. 

Harry was noticeably relaxed when he was in a library. It didn’t seem to be a conscious decision; merely the long and repeated associations between books, library, and comfort created a natural calming effect on him. It was why she would invite him to come and wander through when she could see that he was tired or stressed. 

Today Audrey and Nathan had gone over to a friend’s house at four o’clock. William would have happily spent his time with Harry, but the older boy needed to complete some homework and study. He had important tests coming up. 

Normally, Harry would’ve just left. But it had started snowing outside, and she wasn’t prepared to let him walk home in the dark and the cold. She’d told him that he was staying for dinner, and that he was welcome to help her cook if he wanted to. It was important that he not feel like he was a burden. However, dinner wouldn’t happen until her husband got home from work, so now they were in her library together. Harry had chosen a book to read and was seated at the table. 

“Harry? May I have your attention for a minute?” She asked, talking a seat next to him. She was nervous to have this conversation with him. She knew that whatever Harry’s relationship with his family was, it didn’t fit what most would consider healthy. What they knew was mostly speculation, and she had realised that Harry had been careful to keep it that way. She therefore felt that he had whatever it was, under control currently. What she wanted to do then, was to build some trust between them. So that if, _if_ , things went bad that he would feel safe to come to her or her husband. 

Harry slipped a bookmark into the book he was reading, set it down on the table, and turned to face her. 

“You have it.” He said, giving her a curious look. She twitched her fingers. She didn’t know how to start this conversation. 

“You’ve been friends with my children for a few months now and you come over here most weeks-”

“Is that a problem?” He cut in, looking confused. 

“Oh no! Not at all. I’m sorry, I’m not explaining myself well. I’ve just noticed a few things. For instance, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t celebrate Christmas. We’re just a month away from it, and so I thought I’d ask to make certain. If that’s the case then you shouldn’t feel you have to get gifts for us just because we celebrate it,” She was rambling by the end, but she managed to get her point across. She really wished she was as eloquent with her spoken words as she was with her written ones. 

“You’re correct. I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Harry said after a moment. 

“Is it because of religious reasons? You don’t have to tell me why, but I am curious.” Harry’s lack of enthusiasm for the holiday had been their biggest clue, but it also became apparent while her children were rambling on about it that he didn’t know much about it or care to. Not that he said anything so blunt to anyone. He was too polite. It had been a point of debate between her and Robert as to the reason behind Harry’s apathy. He thought that Harry hadn’t been allowed to participate in Christmas before. That his relatives were denying him. She thought that Harry (and possibly his relatives) didn’t celebrate Christmas. 

Harry looked at her for a moment. Stared deep into her eyes. 

“I’m Pagan,” He told her. 

“I thought you might be Jewish!” She blurted out. 

“What? With skin this pale?” He looked at her like she was on drugs. 

“It might have come from a grandparent,” She tried to defend herself. Harry just laughed. 

“No, I’m definitely Pagan. My father and his family were Pagan too, although I’m not sure how active they were about it,” He clarified. She thought for a moment. 

“What does being Pagan mean for you? The term is very broad,” Sandra asked while trying to discard her preconceptions about it. “It just means that you worship multiple deities, right?”

Harry nodded. 

“I’m a bit of a traditionalist. I follow what remains of the Germanic practices from before Christianity spread into what became the UK, with a few other more modern aspects thrown in. So, I celebrate Yule during the winter solstice instead of Christmas. By the Gregorian calendar that will happen on the 21st this year. I also celebrate the summer solstice, which I call Litha, and both the spring and autumn equinoxes, Ostara and Mabon respectively. There are a couple of other celebrations throughout the year, but those are the biggest,” He explained. 

“What about your mother and her side of the family?” She had to ask. 

“I don’t know. I would assume they were Christian as that is the most likely, but Aunt Petunia hasn’t told me much. She and her husband are very anti-religion. They do celebrate Christmas, but only as a chance to show off and spoil their son. That’s why I never joined in. I never wanted to be a part of that,” Harry finished with a shrug. 

“Do you know why they do that?” She asked, vaguely mystified. She could understand perhaps, keeping up with appearances and decorating because everyone else was doing. She didn’t think that was the right thing to do, but Christmas was a common celebration in England. But why would you do something just to waste money when you could do that at other times of the year?

“… Uncle Vernon might have been raised comfortably middle class, but Aunt Petunia wasn’t. She has access to far more money now than her parents ever did when she was growing up. For her, I think, being able to afford absolutely everything her son wants is the peak of success. She doesn’t see anything wrong with what she’s doing,” Harry answered. He had paused to choose his words but had clearly thought about the answer to that question before. 

“That’s just… words fail me. You’re probably right but it seems ludicrous.” She muttered. She shook her head to clear it. “I have another question for you: is it hard living around here with how Christian everything is?” She asked. 

“There are a few things…” Harry trailed off as he thought about it. “School for example. I’m quite glad I don’t attend school here. They might call it ‘religious education’ but it’s clearly only Christian education, and parents or guardians must sign a form every year if they want their child to not receive it. Kids that don’t get RE are sent outside the classroom where they sit unsupervised in an unused room. I know this because there’s a Buddhist family that attends and I’m friends with their children,” 

“They just leave them there? With nothing to do?” Surely that couldn’t be right. Teachers were supposed to supervise children throughout school hours. And this was at a primary school level. You couldn’t trust the students to look after themselves just yet. 

“Normally its only one or two kids per class… The teachers don’t go to any effort for the kids who sit out. They just treat those kids like the decision for them not to attend RE is the kid’s fault, and a major inconvenience,” Harry explained, paraphrasing what Sally Zhou had told him. “There are other things that I can’t avoid though, like the librarians. The two librarians at the local library are sisters. Their names are Judith and Ester, and we get along pretty well. They’re both Catholic though, and strictly so. I can’t have a conversation with them without one of them bringing it up in some way. If I told them I was Pagan… I’m certain I wouldn’t be welcome in the library again,” Harry said with a deep sigh. “That’s not even getting into advertisement. I don’t watch much TV for a reason. Between Father’s Day and Mother’s Day sales, Easter sales, and Christmas sales, it’s like a constant bombardment of things I don’t want to hear about. I don’t consider myself sensitive, and I ignore it most of the time without a problem. After a while though, it really gets on my nerves.”

When he’d finished his rant, and it was a rant because it had gotten more emotional at the end than normal for Harry, there was silence. Sandra was deep in thought, processing what Harry had told her. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all, and she realised that her knowledge on the topic was grossly inadequate. 

“…Sorry for the word vomit. As you can tell, I’ve been holding this in for a long time,” He finished quietly. 

“That’s okay. I’m glad you’re being honest with me. I’ve never really thought about those things you’ve mentioned because I either didn’t know or because they haven’t impacted me. I understand what you mean though. Let me think about this please? I need to do some research. Then I can ask you intelligent questions.”

Harry smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with my other characters I’ve tried to provide reasons for their behaviours. I think my explanation for Dudley is logical. It started off as jealousy but then grew because it was never discouraged by his parents. We know that the Evans family grew up close to where the Snape family lived, and the Snape family were quite poor. So, I feel it safe to assume that although they were better off than the Snapes, they weren’t wealthy either. 
> 
> And as for my rant about religious education in schools, maybe it was different where you grew up. But what I mentioned above is what happened at my school and I always felt bad for the kids sent out to the back room during that class. Not trying to criticise the religion itself, just the way that schools chose to implement it.


	6. Mr Sutton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Fashion, I bring you a story about how not every adult living in Little Whinging is some sort of disappointment.

**Benjamin Sutton, from number 14 Privet Drive**

Benjamin hefted his shopping onto his left arm while his right arm desperately fished around his suit pocket for his keys. At least it was a Friday he reminded himself. He had the weekend to enjoy himself before getting back to work on Monday. 

He opened the door and heard the stampeding of small paws. He just managed to shut the door before he was assaulted by a bouncing white ball of fluff. He laughed.

“Hey Murphy. Did you miss me?” She yipped loudly at him. He took that as a yes. 

It wasn’t a surprise. Murphy missed him whenever he returned from being out of her sight, even if he’d just gone to the toilet. 

He settled the groceries on the counter and put away all the cold things into the fridge. It was the start of the weekend he reminded himself. A perfect time for a drink. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled down at the kitchen table to enjoy it. He gazed out the window. 

If he hadn’t inherited the house, then he wouldn’t be living in it. Privet Drive was a nosey little neighbourhood. Add onto that living on the corner of it and Magnolia Crescent and suddenly there was little privacy. Especially if he stepped outside. The fencing wasn’t enough to keep eyes off him. 

It had grown on him though, after a while. Now he used the view to spy on other people just as much as they spied on him. Equivalent exchange in a way. 

He watched as Philip Brooks walked his two sons Henry and Isaac back to his house. Having two children going to different schools must be frustrating, he thought, but he understood the necessity of it given their circumstances. 

He spotted Ruth Kennedy walking alongside her mother-in-law Bernice Kennedy. The two were chatting away and enjoying the sunshine. He remembered when he’d been doing that for his parents. His father had gotten injured in a car accident and his mother hadn’t been strong enough to carry him around as needed. Benjamin had moved in to look after them both. Of course, he hadn’t had a partner with him to help. That hadn’t been possible at the time. He dragged his eyes away before he got sad from thinking too much. 

Helen Taylor was out the front in her garden. He shivered a little. He didn’t like that woman. She made him feel uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t properly express. It probably had something to do with her supposed status as happily married that was in direct contrast to her actions. Particularly the looks she gave him. Loyalty is something he values highly. Loyalty is something he feels she lacks. 

Murphy pawed at his leg until he picked her up and settled her on his lap. Her tail wagged as she also peered out the window. He wondered what this all looked like to her. 

A flicker of movement caught his attention. There was a young girl walking up Magnolia Crescent. She was wearing a denim jacket, a knee length yellow skirt, and her black hair was noticeably short for a girl. There was a blue and silver backpack slung across one shoulder. He didn’t think he recognised her. That was odd. He thought he knew most of the local people, and he'd definitely remember anyone who stuck out the way she did. 

She got closer to his property until just before his fence began she walked behind a large bush. A few seconds later she walked out, this time the skirt was nowhere to be seen and she was wearing black shorts. He blinked. That was an impressively fast change of clothes, even if she had likely been wearing the shorts underneath the skirt. 

He peered closer and his jaw dropped. His eyes had been playing tricks on him. That kid wasn’t a girl. He was a boy. 

The boy then turned onto Privet Drive and walked down it. As he passed by neighbours some waved to him and he waved back. They knew him then, so he must be local. 

Benjamin finished his drink. He’d have to speak to the boy at some point and mention that he should be more discreet. It was good to see a child unafraid to dress in whatever manner the kid wanted, but there were a lot of assholes who lived around here.


	7. The Dupont Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Illustrating. A story about one of Harry’s neighbours and how she ended up being his mentor in art.

**The Dupont family, from number 2 Privet Drive**

Thea hummed under her breath as she poured the batter into the cake moulds. It was a beautiful day outside. Her daughter Sophie was asleep on the couch. There had been a big celebration on the weekend with her husband’s parents having their fortieth wedding anniversary. It hadn’t been the first time they had taken Sophie to France to visit the extended family of course, but this was the first time they’d taken her to such an event. She was still catching on sleep a few days later. 

She put the cupcakes into the oven and set the timer. She glanced back over to her four-year-old. Sophie had passed out with an arm hanging off the side of the couch and a blanket tucked under her head. She wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. 

Thea washed her hands and removed her apron. She grabbed her bag of supplies and opened the front door. Out on the front porch she had an easel set up. With the door open the way it was she could paint away and keep an eye on her daughter. It was perfect. 

Thea was an art teacher. Art had always been a passion of hers, ever since she was a little girl and marrying Maxim hadn’t stopped her. With his steady IT job, she could afford to make art and not worry about getting a job, but she wanted to work anyway. Coming over to England opened a lot of job opportunities for her. She could be teaching art, making art herself, or tutoring people in French if they wanted. She ended up with a job at a primary school. 

The work was fun, her colleagues were mostly the friendly sort, and the hours were reasonable even if the pay was lacking. There was only notable one downside. It had taken her a few months to spot it. 

That downside was that most children didn’t care about art. Or if they did, then it didn’t last. Parents were always encouraging them to be interested in the more serious school subjects. Mathematics, history, science, languages. Art “wouldn’t make them any money”. Art “was a waste of time because you’ll never be good at it”. Art “was girly”, in some cases. 

These attitudes broke her heart. But there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. 

On her easel was a partially finished painting of a lioness and her cub. Thea hoped that if she finished and hung it up in her classroom than she might inspire some of the children.

* * *

An hour later Sophie was awake, but she seemed content to play with her toys outside while Thea continued painting. 

“Hello!” Sophie called loudly. 

“Hello,” Answered a voice she didn’t recognise, although it clearly belonged to a child. 

“I’m Sophie, and I am four years old. Who are you?” Thea turned to see a black-haired child standing a few metres away from her daughter. She cleaned her brush and set it down carefully. 

“My name is Harry and I am seven years old,” The boy, Harry, replied. She recognised him even though he didn’t go to the school she taught at. His cousin did though and his name was Harry Potter. He lived next door at number four. 

“And why are you here today Harry?” Thea cut in before her daughter could speak again. 

“I wanted to see what you were painting,” He said with a shrug. 

“Do you like painting Harry?” She asked, curious. She knew that his cousin didn’t care for it. In fact, Dudley was a difficult student for all the teachers. That didn’t mean that Harry was like him. 

“Sometimes, but I draw mostly.” He explained as he pulled a sketch pad out from his backpack. 

Thea ushered him over, so he could look at her painting while she flicked through his sketchpad. For a seven-year-old there was a stunning amount of detail. Harry’s sketches were mostly of plants. Flowers, vines, shrubs, and trees. There were a few animals in there too, and a few people. 

This was something that needed to be encouraged. 

It looks like she had found herself a protégé.


	8. The Sinclair Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry accidentally started a local legend among the kids. Being the troll that he is he's kept it going of course. This is a story based on Carving.

**The Sinclair family, from number four Magnolia Crescent**

Matthias held his younger brother Marcus’s hand. The three-year-old was happily babbling away as they walked together behind their parents and sister Chloe. Today was a special day. Their parents had promised that if Matthias and Chloe both got top marks on their school reports then they would take them to the pawn shop. There they would both be able to buy any one item that they wanted, so long as they could carry it. 

Matthias had been looking forward to this day for months. He had so many ideas about what he might want to get. Last time he’d been in the pawn shop he’d seen a whole box full of Lego pieces. Though, with a pawn shop you never knew exactly what they had before you entered the shop. They might have sold the Lego already. That’s what made it so fun. You had to look around everywhere to make sure that you found the perfect thing. 

There was even a chance there was something made by the Toy Maker. The Toy Maker was a bit of a local legend. He had appeared out of nowhere one day at the pawn shop and sold a bunch of carved wooden toys and stone pendants. Ever since then he appears every couple of months to sell more things. Mostly toys, but also wooden boxes and other kinds of jewellery made with wood, stone, leather, or metal. Sometimes even a combination of those materials. Everything he brought in was handmade, you could tell just by looking and touching them. You could tell they were made by the Toy Maker if they were without paint and if there was a small elephant carved onto it somewhere. 

No one knew his real name, or how old he was, or where he came from. That was part of what made him so cool. 

They arrived at the shop and Matthias passed his younger brother to his mother before following Chloe’s lead and running off to explore the shop. 

There was so much to see. The shop owner really filled this place with as much stuff as he could fit. He checked near the back wall where he’d seen the Lego box. It was gone, just like he’d thought it might. 

“Matthias, come over here!” Chloe yelled at him. He turned to see that she was standing near a table. A table holding things made from mostly from wood and stone. 

“No way!” He shouted back The Toy Maker’s goods always sold quickly. He must have been in this shop within the last week for there to still be stuff from him. 

He jogged over. 

There were horses, goats, sheep, bears, wolves, cats, dogs, lions, ferrets, reindeer, dolphins, birds, sharks, and many more animals. There were small boxes in the shape of treasure chests. Necklaces with different pendants. Bracelets. And there, when he lifted one of the lions, was a tiny elephant under its foot. 

It was real. He drew a shaky breath and turned towards his sister. 

“You’re getting one, right?” He asked her. 

“Duh, of course I am.” She said rolling her eyes. He wondered if he’d been that sassy when he was six years old. 

“Which one do you want then?” He asked, still trying to make up his own mind. 

“Um, the biggest lioness,” She announced with a grin. 

“Then I’ll get this eagle. That way we’ll be able to swap when we want to.” He said as he picked up the eagle he wanted. 

“Why would I want your crummy eagle?” Chloe asked him snottily. 

“I don’t know. I’m just leaving it as a possibility!” He tried to defend himself. He thought all the animals were cool and had assumed that Chloe would want to swap with him at some point. She seemed to enjoy swapping toys with him most of the time. Was she actually not interested? Or was she going through a new phase where she acted like she didn't care? 

She took her lioness, rolled her eyes at him again, and walked off. 

He sighed. Little sisters didn't make any sense. He never had an issue understanding Marcus, and the toddler couldn't even make proper sentences yet.


	9. The Hurst Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Library. A look at how there are other ways to be shitty parents/guardians without the use of cupboards with locks on them, the threat or use of violence, or the reduction someone’s food intake.

**The Hurst family, from number nineteen Wisteria Walk**

Kathleen curled her fists as she stormed into the library. Her curly blonde hair bouncing with each step. The scowl on her face was enough to keep people away from her. 

She wasn’t having a tantrum. No matter what either of her parents said. She was angry, yes, but she had a right to be angry. She’d come home from boarding school and this time she’d been excited for the summer. Her mother had told her months ago that this time they’d all be going on a family vacation together. To America. 

She’d been so looking forward to it. 

She turned the corner and saw a mostly unoccupied table. There was a boy sitting there, possibly a bit younger than her, but he looked like he was completely focussed on his book. Perfect. She sat down. 

Why did she let them get her hopes up again? They always disappointed her. Her parents were going over to America this holiday season. Without her. She would be staying here, with a nanny they had hired to look after her while they were away enjoying themselves. 

“What’s wrong?” A voice asked her. She turned. It was the boy. 

“Why do you care?” She snapped back. 

“I don’t,” He answered. “I don’t even know you. But that’s why you can tell me, ‘cos I’d never tell anyone else.”

She stared at him. It did make sense when she thought about. She decided to give it a try. 

“My parents were telling me for months that once I got back from boarding school we’d be going on a family holiday together. I just got back, and they’ve told me they’re going on the trip without me. I’m to stay home. With a nanny they’ll hire to look after me.” She revealed. He cocked his head and looked at her. She wasn’t sure that he believed her. 

“That sucks. Why did they do that?” Oh, so he did believe her. Or, he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. 

“I don’t know. But they’re always doing things like it. Changing plans last minute and leaving me,” She explained further. 

“Sounds like they’re very selfish then… Do you have any siblings?” He asked after a pause. 

“No. I’m an only child,” She answered. 

“Huh. Would you say then, that your parents never wanted to be parents?” Green eyes were drilling into her. 

She frowned in thought. She’d never heard that put into words before, but it could be true. Her parents never went to great lengths to spend time with her or any other kids. 

“Maybe? But I was planned, grandma told me that. They were married for five years before they had me,” She wished that she saw grandma more often. She was much nicer than her mother. 

“Everywhere you go, there’s a lot of pressure to meet expectations. People seem to believe that getting married and having kids will lead to happiness. Unless that’s what you want to do though, then it won’t magically make you happy. I think your parents might have found that out the hard way,” 

When did random strangers get so wise?

“What does that mean for me then?” She then asked. It was all well and good to discuss where her parents had gone wrong but that didn’t fix her situation. 

“Well, learn from your parents I guess. Don’t do what they did. If you are going to do something that’ll make you unhappy, don’t drag other people who can’t escape into it. Your parents haven't just made their own lives miserable, they've made yours suck too. And unlike them, you can't just bugger off to another country,”

“I think I should get the last half of that printed onto a t-shirt,” She said with a snort of amusement. 

“That would be funny,” He grinned at her. “My name’s Harry Potter. I live at number four Privet Drive and I’ll be around all summer. If you’re up to it, I suggest you give that nanny the slip whenever you can. We could have fun together,”

“I’d like that.”


	10. The Haynes Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This family was mentioned in Justice. Warning: very sad. Mentions of death and grief.

**The Haynes family, from number two Wisteria Walk**

Harry took a deep breath before he entered the church. The building was a beautiful one. It had the old-fashioned high ceiling and stained-glass windows that you would expect. The pews were all set out in perfect rows and the carpet underfoot was soft. It still felt oppressive. It was an overcast day, and although it hadn’t rained yet it probably would. He was dressed all in black, as was everyone else inside the church. There were plenty of people milling about but the place wasn't crowded. 

There was a heavy feeling of sorrow in the air. Harry wasn’t sure if he was welcome here, but he felt the need to pay his respects. 

When he’d travelled back in time, he’d planned for all the things he would change. Friends he would save, the people he would help, and the enemies he would crush. He had big plans to save the world. He had quite forgotten some of the little details. 

Details like the Haynes family, who just a week ago had been driving along when they were crashed into by a drunk driver. The other car had struck the driver’s side of the Haynes’s car, breaking Mr Haynes’s arm and some of his ribs. However, the greatest point of impact had been the on the passenger door behind him. Tyler Haynes had been rushed to hospital and the doctors had done their best. It wasn't enough. Three days later, the call was made to turn off the life support. 

Tyler Haynes had been just five years old. 

Harry hadn’t remembered his death. He'd barely remembered Tyler at all and now he knew why. True, he’d never been close to the Haynes children in the past. Only the eldest child Adam, who had been in the same year as him at school. But they'd never done much more than say hello to each other in passing. The accident had rocked the community here though. He should have heard about it and remembered. He could have prevented this. 

Maybe not the accident, but it could have been survivable for everyone involved. 

Just a few weeks ago he’d been handing out sweets to Tyler and his siblings. Now Tyler was gone, leaving behind a devastated family. A traumatised family. They’d all been in the car together. 

Harry walked up to where the coffin was. It was a closed casket, likely because of the damage Tyler had sustained in the accident. The mortician would have struggled to fix the body up enough to be presentable. Harry tried not to think about it too much. He opened the box he was carrying and pulled out a bouquet that he’d carved and painted last night. 

He placed them onto the coffin. He’d been very deliberate in his choices. 

Michaelmas daisies, meaning farewell. 

Pink carnations, I will not forget you. 

Buttercups, meaning childishness. 

Oak leaves, for bravery. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye had him turning around. There was a woman in a long black dress. Her skin was pale and there were shadows under her eyes. It was Mrs Haynes. She didn’t look well. She was frowning at him, but something about her expression was distant. 

“Oh… you’re the boy who always gives out sweets,” She said after a moment. 

“Yes Mrs Haynes.” He said, impressed that she had remembered him. He’d only spoken with her once before today. She turned back to the coffin momentarily. 

“Why did you bring wooden flowers instead of real ones?” She asked softly. She wasn’t upset by it thankfully, merely curious. 

“They’ll last longer ma’am,” He answered. He wanted the family to be able to take the flowers with them if they wanted to. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you,” She gave a brittle smile, but it was genuine from what he could see in her eyes. 

He dipped his head rather than answer her verbally. Further words seemed meaningless at this point. 

“Are you staying for the service?” She asked after a moment of looking around. Probably for his parents or guardians. The Dursleys hadn’t been interested in attending though. 

Probably a good thing seeing how Dudley had bullied Tyler and his siblings for years. 

“If I’m allowed Mrs Haynes,”

“Please do. My children need the support of their friends,” She said, her voice sounding the surest it had been for the entire exchange. 

Harry wasn’t technically one of Adam or Naomi’s friends, but he didn’t correct the mother. He was here because he had slipped up in his thinking. He’d done what Dumbledore ended up doing all too often. Putting the good of many at the forefront of his mind and ignoring the struggles of the few. He would help this family with their grief and make sure that Tyler had moved on properly. 

Other than his occasional talks with his parents and grandparents, he’d really been ignoring the gift he’d received through his Peverell ancestors. The gift of necromancy. 

That would have to change.


	11. Arcturus Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of time skips that show some key interactions between Harry and Arcturus Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Sorry it's been so long; my muse is being uncooperative. But I managed to work on this thing. Enjoy.

_Happy Ostara Lord Black. I hope I’ve not been presumptuous in sending you a scarf I knitted for you along with this letter. I’m aware that we are not close friends or family, and we aren’t neighbours either. However, this is the first year where I’ve been able to follow tradition and make clothes for someone else for Ostara, and not just myself. I hope that your days are blessed and bountiful. Regards, Harry Potter ___

Arcturus read the note that was attached to the parcel he had received earlier that day with a touch of incredulity. 

He shouldn’t be so surprised. Harry was frightfully intelligent and independent for his age. He’d already taken steps on his own to learn about and get connected with his heritage. Still, finding out and then taking part in traditional magical celebrations was rather impressive. The scarf he had knitted was of excellent quality too. Not a missed stitch along the whole length, and the boy had chosen a very nice pale yellow and green colour combination. 

Arcturus drummed his fingers on the side of his armchair. 

He could just ignore the scarf and the note. As Harry had pointed out they weren’t close enough (geographically, by blood, or by emotional tie) for him to be obligated to return the gesture by sending a new article of clothing to the boy. But the idea of leaving a child alone and surrounded by muggles when he was trying to follow the ways of his ancestors rankled. 

Certainly, it would undo any of the good luck obtained by wearing the scarf for the first time on Ostara. 

That decides it then. 

“Minnie!”

“Yes Master?”

“Get Twilfitt and Tattings on the floo for me. I have an order to make.”

* * *

“Why do you enjoy looking at these paintings so much?” Arcturus asked Harry while they were exploring the art gallery once more. “I know that you aren’t interested in learning to paint; you prefer to make more practical things such as clothes, books, tools, and toys. And surely, it’s not the content of these works. Paintings from this period and region are nearly all centred-on Christianity. So, what it is you’re so enamoured with?”

Harry took his eyes off the depiction of Christ on the cross which he had been studying for several minutes already. 

“I admire beauty in all forms Grandpa. No matter the medium. These would have taken years of discipline and practice to produce; I appreciate the skill and tenacity of each artist. And as for the religious symbolism and ideas that are involved: I need to learn about them, just like I need to learn the basics of the other main religions. Understanding these theologies is the key to understanding the world we live in... Religion is heavily tied in with language, culture, societal views, and the laws put in place. As much as the magical world wants to distance itself from those who persecuted us, there is no denying how much Christianity has shaped the world over the last two millennia.”

* * *

“Lord Black, meet Gemini. Gem, this is Lord Black, my unofficial grandfather,”

Arcturus stared at the creature being presented to him. 

When Harry had told him that he had an unusual magical companion, a feathered serpent had been the last sort of creature he would have thought possible. Snakes and serpents had a reputation for being dark. For being cold and scaly and slimy. Most of these assumptions are baseless or overly exaggerated, but even so most people didn’t consider them as an ideal sort of pet. 

“How old is Gemini?” He asked. The feathered serpent was rather small, but the species itself was so rare that there had been very little research done on them. There could be many variations and sub-species for all Arcturus knew. Maybe Gemini was already full grown. 

“About two years old. It’s hard to know exactly because he was passed through many hands before he got into this country,” Harry answered a little vaguely. In other words, Gemini had been smuggled into England. 

“Is he venomous?” Arcturus asked as he studied the beautiful reptile. Said reptile gave him a toothy grin. 

“Yes.” 

Harry refused to elaborate further on that answer.

* * *

Arcturus leaned forward and picked up his cup of tea. He cast his gaze over to the boy that had somehow turned his world upside-down. 

“Sirius is being released from St Mungo’s next week.” He told the young wizard. 

Harry looked up from the sketch he was doing of Arcturus’s personal elf. Minnie was sat on a cushion, in her favourite pleated tea towel dress, and holding very still at Harry’s request. She was blushing at the attention she was getting. Arcturus did his best to ignore the ridiculousness of the scene in front of him by only focusing on Harry. 

“That’s good,” Harry said, after a moment. 

“He’s asking to see you,” Arcturus continued. 

Harry frowned for a moment. To meet safely the two of them took many safety precautions. To get Sirius, who was known to be impulsive and loud, through similar measures would be hard. But Arcturus knew how much his grandson’s godson meant to him. Sirius would be far more co-operative if he could get the chance to speak with Harry in person.

“A friend of mine has invited me to the circus on the 5th of May. Perhaps you can arrange for Sirius to be there? With all the performers, tourists, and other families, you shouldn’t have any trouble moving around unseen,”

Arcturus didn’t even need to think about it. Sirius would only need to stay patient for a week before he’d get to see Harry. That was doable. 

“That would be perfect. What time?”

“I’ll be there from 11am to 3pm. Just come and find me.”


	12. Dupont family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of Harry and the Dupont family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the songs in this. I don't know who owns them, if in fact, anyone owns them. I'm aware that there are multiple versions out there; the ones I used are the versions I learnt as a kid. 
> 
> Harry refers to his Mrs Dupont as "Madame Dupont" when she is teaching him. The rest of the time he calls her Mrs.

Harry was part of a circle of nearly two dozen children that were holding hands. He had Sophie Dupont on his left, and Naomi Haynes on his right. The rest of the children in the circle were older than him; they were graduating to high school soon, and Mrs Dupont had put on a small party for them. Harry only knew a couple of them by name. 

He knew Martha Pickering because he had spent some time helping her younger sister Lillian. Emma Clarke was Dennis’s eldest sister, and she was one of Harry’s allies. She always knew how to bring her brother to heel, and he had been quite proactive in building a good working relationship with her. Isabella Gardner was easy for him to recognise, with her and her twin siblings having the most obviously mixed heritage in the local area. Ezra Kent was a boy he knew partly for his unusual name (a name which Harry liked the sound of) and for the fact that his family owned a very chatty budgerigar named Bosco. The last person moving onto to high school that Harry knew the name of was Walter Hobbs. And he only knew Walter’s name because he knew Walter’s sister Maxine, who had rather famously climbed out the window of a classroom to avoid detention. Which was slightly impressive when one saw that the window she had climbed out of was on the second floor. 

The rest of the older kids were unknown to him. They probably lived close to the school, but they weren’t from Privet Drive or Wisteria Walk, and the other roads which connected to them were very long. Far too many houses and people for Harry to memorise just on his own. 

Naomi and Harry stood out from the group just because of their age. They had been only invited to keep Sophie company, as they were closer to her in age than the others. Harry didn’t mind though; free food was free food. And the other kids weren’t a bad sort. 

Sophie had been the one to talk all the children into holding hands. She wanted to play a game as a group, and none of the children that were attending wanted to risk hurting Sophie’s feelings by saying no. Hurting Sophie’s feelings would upset Mrs Dupont, and if they did that they’d be sent back to their parents. 

Mrs Dupont was taking some photos from the veranda while they were playing in the garden. She might think that she was being discreet, but everyone knew where she was and what she was doing. 

Sophie began to sing, and the others joined in: 

_Ring o ring o rosie_  
_A pocket full of posie_  
_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_  
_We all fall down._

They all collapsed from where they had been moving onto the soft grass with a few giggles. Martha began the second verse, and everyone soon joined in: 

_The cow is in the meadow_  
_Eating the buttercups_  
_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_  
_We all jump up!_

There was a lot of stumbling around as people tried to jump to their feet while still holding hands with people who were also jumping to their feet. 

They take a break when Mrs Dupont announces that the pies are ready to be eaten. 

“Harry? Harry!” Sophie catches his attention with her excited yells. 

“Yes Sophie?” He asks her. She was sitting next to Naomi and Walter. 

“Do you know any different rhymes or songs that we could learn?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. There was one rhyme he knew that Sophie wasn’t likely to know. But, would her parents be happy to hear her sing it? It was rather morbid.  
The others were looking at him though. Walter looked curious, Emma looked hopeful, and Isabella’s gaze was almost challenging. Well, alright then. He didn’t mind causing a stir.

“I know one. It’s a skipping rhyme. And it goes like this:

_I have a deadly nightshade_  
_So twisted does it grow_  
_With berries black as midnight_  
_And a skull as white as snow_  
_The vicar’s cocky young son_  
_Came to drink my tea_  
_He touched me without asking_  
_Now he’s buried ‘neath a tree_

__Do you think you can learn all the words?” He then asked the group._ _

__The silence was interrupted by laughter from Martha and Isabella._ _

__“Yes, of course when can learn the words,” Martha said, and her friends nodded in agreement._ _

__“That’s a very good rhyme Harry. I wish I had heard it before today,” Isabella added with a giggle._ _

__“I don’t get it,” Sophie said softly._ _

__She was only five years old._ _

__“The girl in the rhyme was hurt by a boy who came from a powerful family. She didn’t let that stop her from protecting herself at the end though,” Harry explained as best he could without going into detail about poisoned tea and burying bodies._ _

__He could see that Naomi understood though. He hoped the talk of burial didn’t upset her too much. The older children had nearly all understood the message. Those that didn’t were quickly informed by a friend._ _

__He spent the next ten minutes teaching them the words until they knew them by heart._ _

* * *

__“See Harry, people draw those lines over the faces to get the features all nice and levelled and proportioned correctly. And they’ll tell you to put the eyes above that line the bisects the face. But sometimes, they’re wrong about that,” Madame Dupont spoke as she drew examples on the paper in front of her._ _

__Harry watched keenly._ _

__“How are they wrong? It looks alright to me,”_ _

__“They’re only right if the subject being draw is an adult Harry. Lowering the eyes works to decrease the age of the person you’re drawing. For a teenager for example, I’d be putting the eyes on the line. Not above it. For a young child or an infant, the eyes should go below the line. Do you see?”_ _

__Harry stared at the examples she had effortless sketched out. What she said made perfect sense suddenly. Just a small detail but it made a huge difference._ _

__“Yes. That’s amazing.”_ _

* * *

__It was a warm Sunday afternoon and a bunch of the local children had set up a soccer match in the parkland behind St Grogory’s Primary School. Harry was watching for a few minutes before he saw seven-year-old Sophie Dupont was also watching the game intently._ _

__He walked over to her._ _

__“Hi Sophie. Are you going to play as well?”_ _

__She turned to him in surprise, and then gave him a hug._ _

__“Hello Harry. Papa has taught me a bit, but I’m not very good at soccer,” She explained._ _

__Harry wasn’t surprised. He remembered seeing all the soccer memorabilia in number two’s lounge room. It made sense that Mr Dupont was a fan of the sport._ _

__“Sophie, those kids aren’t very good either. I’m sure you’d be fine,”_ _

__“But Harry, they’re a lot bigger than me. And there aren’t any girls playing,”_ _

__Harry frowned as he looked out at the kids playing. Sophie did have a good point. Fortunately, he could do something about it. He’d seen Kathleen come through here only a few minutes ago. He should be able to catch up to her._ _

__“Huh, well, that needs to change. Wait a moment Sophie. I’m going to find Kath. She’ll want to join us.”_ _

__And beat some of those boys into the ground. But Harry didn’t say that out loud. Sophie was a gentler soul than Kathleen Hurst._ _

* * *

__“You need to have a good understanding of anatomy before you’ll be able to draw people well on a consistent basis Harry. Yes, the individual variation is important. But that is why you have reference photos or models. You need to know about the bones and muscles and organs underneath the skin. As well as the proportions of the whole body. Tell me Harry, how big is your heart?”_ _

__“I don’t know Madame,” He answered her. He’d never put much thought into how big his heart would be. He knew how big an adult’s heart would be, on average, but he had no idea at this stage of his life._ _

__“Hold out your hand and make a fist,”_ _

__He did as she had instructed him._ _

__“That is roughly the same size as your heart. If you put both your fists together, that mass is about the same size as your brain,”_ _

__Harry looked at his hands in surprise. He had for some reason thought his brain would be bigger._ _

__“There are many other little tricks as well. The length of your foot from heel to toe is about the same length as your forearm. If you place your hand on your wrist and reach around, your thumb should be able to just touch your middle finger. If you place both hands around your neck, with your thumbs touching each other, then you should also just be able to touch your middle fingers together,”_ _

__“Cool,”_ _

__“I’m glad you think so. It’s something to keep in mind if you want to get the proportions right. I have books on anatomy that I’m going to lend you. They’re pretty advanced, so don’t be upset if you struggle to read them. I think they’ll help you a lot though.”_ _

* * *

__“Harry, papa said that I’m not allowed to get a kitten for my birthday. How can I change his mind?”_ _

__“Isn’t your papa allergic to cats?”_ _

__“…Yes,”_ _

__“Then I don’t think you’ll be able to change his mind. Just imagine if you did get a cat; your dad would always be sneezing and snuffling. That would be fair to him or the cat,”_ _

__“But I want a pet,”_ _

__“How about you ask for a pet that doesn’t have any fur?”_ _

__“Like a snake? You like snakes, don’t you Harry?”_ _

__“Yes, I do like snakes. But, your maman doesn’t like snakes Sophie. You know that as well as I do. What about a hermit crab? Or some fish?”_ _

__“Oo fish would be nice. They come in so many pretty colours!”_ _


	13. Adam Haynes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This idea gave me the giggles

It took a lot of courage for Adam Haynes to walk up to Harry Potter and confront him about his cousin. In truth, Adam wasn’t sure exactly why he felt the need to do this. Harry wasn’t responsible for Dudley’s actions; heck, Harry didn’t even attend the same school as his cousin. But Adam was curious to know what kind of person Harry Potter is. 

There are a lot of strange rumours about him after all. 

“Your cousin used to bully me,” Adam said instead of a proper greeting. 

Harry Potter looked up from the book he was reading. 

“That doesn’t surprise me, but, I’m sorry that you went through that. He is capable of much cruelty,” Harry said in a very neutral tone of voice. 

Adam wasn’t sure what to make of it. His gut was telling him there was more to it than what Harry was saying. 

“…He hurt you too. Didn’t he?” Adam asked after an awkward silence. It was the only thing that made sense. 

Dudley was a lot bigger than his cousin. He’d probably always been bigger than Harry actually. 

“Yes, he did. It used to be very easy for him. His parents believed every word he said, and he used to lie constantly,”

Harry then looked back down at the book and continued to read. 

“How did you get him to stop?” Adam asked quietly. 

Harry turned a page. Then he answered without looking up. 

“Hm, I can’t say. I only got away with it because nothing can be proven and I wasn’t caught at the time,”

Adam’s jaw dropped. 

Harry Potter looked up from his book and smiled at him. 

Adam wasn’t sure if he was bluffing or not. 

“Friends?” He asked weakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's really short, but work has been real busy lately


	14. Noah Yates (and friends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids talking about what they want to do in the future. And then a little extra scene with Kathleen Hurst because I saw a girl on the tram today and I was inspired.

“Any idea what you want to be when you grow up?” Maria Giannopoulos, one of Harry’s fellow dancers, asked while everyone was eating at the end of year street party. 

“I want to be a vet. I like animals,” Hazel Clarke, one of Dennis’s sister, answered first. 

“A nurse, just like my aunt. I like helping people,” Phoebe Gibson spoke softly when it was her turn. 

Harry was happy that the shy girl from number 1 was speaking. It took a lot before she’d come out of her shell, and away from the stern gaze of her parents. 

“That’s better than me, I don’t know yet,” Jimmy said. 

The others in the circle chimed in with similar sentiments, along with a few kids saying they’d like to be a doctor or an architect or in one case an astronaut (although the last one was said with a very joking tone). 

“A teacher,” Harry said when he got a chance. 

“Oh hey, that’s a good idea. You’re really smart Harry,” Ester Hudson said from the other end of the table. 

“And you’re good at talking to people,” Phoebe said, just a bit louder than before. 

“Thanks Phoebe, Ester. What about you Noah?” He asked the last person in the group who hadn’t spoken. 

“Uh, I’m not sure. I know I want to travel, but I’m not sure where,” Noah Yates, youngest son of Privet Drive’s only priest, explained. 

“Do you speak any foreign languages?” Harry asked encouragingly. 

“I learn Spanish in school, but I’m not fluent or anything,” Noah admitted. 

“You should work on that then. If you speak the same language as the locals then you’ll have a much better chance of getting a job. And if you get a job then you’ll be able to pay for the trip yourself,”

“Then your parents won’t be able to tell you not to go!” Maria added, hitting the nail on the head for what the potential issue was. Noah’s parents were known to be very strict.   
It wasn’t exactly a surprise though, given that both parents were heavily involved in one of the local churches. 

“That’s easier said than done though,” Noah pointed out. “Not all of us are like Harry here, who seems to be able to learn anything from a book, or Sophie over there, who grew up speaking two languages,”

“Hey. Don’t use me to put yourself down,” Harry complained. “You’re definitely smart enough to learn a second, or even a fourth language Noah. You just have to try,”  
“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll work on it.”

* * *

BONUS SCENE   
“Oh frickity fuck! I literally just stepped out of the house and already my hair is a mess!” Kathleen Hurst cursed as she got a glimpse of the hair that was already escaping from the braid her temporary nanny had put her hair into. Some of her cousins were coming over later that day and Amanda (the nanny) had insisted that her hair be put up into something more complicated than a pony tail. 

“Why don’t you just cut it short if it bothers you so much?” Harry interrupted her minor meltdown. 

She stopped trying to fix her hair and looked at herself in the glass. She tried to imagine what she would look like with short hair. Maybe a bob-cut that framed her face? Or short at the back and long at the front? That would really throw her bossy nanny into a snit. 

“Huh. Like, how short are we talking here?” She asked. 

“Short enough that it’s out of your eyes and can’t be tied up,” Harry answered her after a moment. 

Oh, so like a pixie cut. 

“Shit. Mum will throw a fit,” She said in a whisper. 

“And? So what? She can’t do anything about it once it’s done,” Harry pointed out. 

Which is perfectly true. Once it’s been cut it takes time before it will grow back. And you can’t easily force someone into wearing a wig. 

“Potter you’re a fricking genius!”

This was going to be so much fun.


	15. Ben and Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids ask the hardest/worst questions at the most unexpected times.

Ben Sutton took another sip of his beer as he relaxed on the couch. It was the end of another long week at work, but tonight he got to enjoy the company of his friend Ian, and Ian’s eight-year-old son, Felix. 

It had been a pleasant evening. They’d just finished having dinner (fish and chips) and Felix was busy playing with the box of Lego. Ian was busy in the kitchen washing up (he had insisted that Ben was a guest and that he should be relaxing). Which just left him keeping an eye on Felix. 

Which wasn’t much of a challenge as Felix is a good kid. He was just as happy playing on his own for an hour as he was spending time in the company of others. It left Benjamin feeling awkward though. He didn’t have much experience with children, and he found it kind of shocking how much Ian seemed to trust him. 

They’d only been friends for a short time. 

“Ben?” A young voice asked. 

He looked over to see that Felix had stopped what he was doing and was looking at him. He smiled at the boy in encouragement; it taken a lot to convince Felix that it was alright to be so informal with him. 

“Yes Felix?”

Felix hesitated for a moment. 

“Did your wife die too?”

If Benjamin had been drinking in that moment, he probably would have choked. Where was this coming from?

“Wha-. No Felix. No, my wife didn’t die. I’ve never had a wife.” He explained in a rush. He set his drink down on the table. Felix was looking confused and sad, and Benjamin cast his panicked gaze over to the doorway leading to the kitchen. Ian wasn’t visible, so it looked like he would have to handle this alone. He took a deep breath. 

“Oh. I thought you were like my dad,” Felix said quietly. Then he frowned. “How come you don’t have a wife then?”

Benjamin wished he could teleport out of the room. This wasn’t a conversation he was prepared for. 

“I’ve never been married,” He hedged carefully. He really needed to be careful what he said here. 

“Why not?” Felix was persistent though. 

“Because, because marriage is a big commitment to someone. And I’ve never been ready to make that sort of commitment to a woman. So, I’ve never asked anyone to marry me.” He explained a bit disjointedly. Hopefully that would satisfy Felix’s curiosity, and if parts of it did get repeated and spread around the neighbourhood then it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. 

Felix sat very still while he was thinking. Benjamin pleaded to any deity that was listening that that would be the end of it. 

“What’s a commitment?” Felix asked suddenly. 

Benjamin was reminded that he was speaking to an eight-year-old. What was he supposed to say?

“It’s like a promise. When you ask a woman to marry you, then you are promising to love and support her for the rest of your life. If she agrees, then she’s promising to do love and support you in return.” 

It was a very romantic summation of marriage, but he was talking to his friend’s kid. He didn’t want to say anything too cynical. Or inappropriate for an eight-year-old. 

“For the rest of your life?”

Blue eyes peered up at him. 

“Yes,” He answered nervously. 

“That’s a long time,” The boy said softly. 

“Yes, it is,” He agreed. 

He waited for Felix to continue. 

“Is it time for dessert yet?” 

Ben laughed. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t know it was a unique trait that Felix had, or if perhaps all children had it to a degree, but he had an amazing ability to ask awkward or inappropriate questions. And then as soon as he had an answer he’d be off asking a completely unrelated question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by that time my littlest sister (age five at the time) spontaneously asked mum if she could try some wine. This happened at a dinner party. One of the guests was a teacher at the school my sisters go to. My mum looked like she was ready to throw herself out the window.


	16. Henry and Isaac Brooks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food, comics, and Harry acting like a friendly older brother. I needed something to counter the darkness.

Harry knocks on the front door of number five with three steady taps. He can hear movement coming from inside the house, which means that Mrs Brooks is home with her sons. He knew that Mr Brooks wouldn’t be around as it was a Monday afternoon. Mr Brooks works long hours on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays so that he can spend more time on the other weekdays with his kids. 

Harry spends quite a bit of time with the Brooks children. Either at their house, which is across the road from where he lives, or at the local park. He knows that they’re not and never will be close friends; both Henry and Isaac have a much broader range of friends and acquaintances than he does, and they’re very comfortable with their groups. He is their closest friend geographically though, so he keeps up weekly visits to maintain their casual friendship. 

“Come in! The door’s unlocked!” Mrs Brooks yells, probably from the kitchen. 

Harry wipes his shoes off on the mat, opens the door, and steps inside. The scent of apple and cinnamon assaults his nose. He knows that Henry’s school is having a bake sale to raise money later this week, and that Mrs Brooks is helping to run the event. He’d heard from other people that she had been baking all week. 

The only question was whether she’d been baking for the sale or to feed her family. 

If the latter was the case, then Harry stood a good chance of getting to try some. His mouth watered at the idea. 

“Mrs Brooks?” He called out as he walked towards the kitchen. 

The noises he’d been hearing stopped for a moment. He hears hurried footsteps before Harry sees Mrs Brooks stepping out of the pantry. She’s got a dusting of flour on one cheek and she’s wearing a strawberry themed apron over her regular clothes. Harry’s nearly certain that apron was a gift from her children last Christmas. Her square glasses are perched low on her nose and wisps of hair are escaping from the bun she’d tied it into. She looked frazzled, but the smile she gave him was genuine. 

“Oh Harry! Goodness, I didn’t realise the time. How are you? It’s good to see you again,” She said in a rush as she came forward to give him a hug. In her current state she reminded him of a more toned-down Molly Weasley. 

He returned her hug calmly. 

“I’m well Mrs Brooks, and you? How is the preparation for the bake sale going?” He asked, indicating the dining room table that was covered by containers of food and a large banner that wasn’t yet finished. 

“Good, really good. I’m running around like a headless chicken, but it is coming together nicely. The boys are upstairs in the spare room, if you want to join them? My apple turnovers will be ready to eat in about 15 minutes,”

“Aren’t they for the bake sale?”

“Oh no. My boys have been complaining for days about how good the house smells. I finally conceded to making them something today,”

Harry resisted the urge to cheer. 

“Ah, well, I do have something for the bake sale,” He said while pulling out a container from his bag. “I made brownies,”

“Harry dear, you know you didn’t have to do that… I won’t say no of course, I’ve tasted how good your cooking is. Thank you dear,”

He passed her the container. 

“You’re welcome Mrs Brooks,”

“Now off you go. Oh! And be mindful of Oscar! That lazy cat is sleeping on the stairs again,”

“Thanks Mrs Brooks!”

* * *

Harry walked up the stairs and dodged the sleeping shape of Oscar the cat with practiced ease. He turns left and walks to the second door and knocks. 

Isaac (of course) calls for him to come in. 

Inside the spare room is messy. Not because it’s not cleaned regularly but because it sees a lot of use. There are music and movie posters on the walls, a square TV in the far corner, with bean bags in front of it as well as a stack of VHS tapes, a shelf full of comic books and fantasy novels, and over next to the other wall there was a large desk with two chairs and a bucket’s worth of art supplies. Numerous games and toys are scattered all over the floor. 

Henry and Isaac were lying on the floor playing checkers. They both sit up when they see Harry. 

Henry smiles and signs a greeting which Harry returns quickly. 

His signing has improved a lot with practice. 

“Hi Harry,” Isaac says after they’ve finished. He looks relieved to see him. 

Henry also seems subdued. That wasn’t like him at all. 

“Hey Isaac,” Harry responds automatically. What was going on? He’d seen the boys three days ago at the park for a bit. Nothing had been wrong back then. 

He sat down next to them. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks and signs simultaneously. He feels a small knot of dread in his stomach. These boys don't usually get worked up over smaller problems. 

Isaac looks at Henry, and Henry looks back at Isaac. Harry can see a mixture of guilt, frustration, and sadness. Then Henry sighs. 

“One of Isaac’s friends got a new TV. A big one,” Henry explained. “He invited kids over to watch movies. His mum said I could come too. But when we got there…” He trails off and his hands fall onto his lap. 

He throws Isaac a frustrated look. Isaac then picks up the story. As was normal for him he signed key words as he spoke them, making sure that Henry would be able to follow along with what he was saying. 

“They assumed that Henry would have hearing aids. I had to explain that hearing aids can’t fix Henry’s problem because the issue he has is with the nerves connecting his inner ear and brain. Things got awkward then; they didn’t know what to do or say, and we could tell that they weren’t comfortable around us. We almost asked to leave but I wanted to see the new TV and Henry told me he was fine,” Isaac said. The was pain in his expression. 

“What happened when you watched the movie?” Harry asked them. Anger had replaced the feeling of dread that he’d been experiencing. He’d thought for a moment that someone might be physically hurt or worse. 

“Isaac’s friend didn’t want to put on the subtitles,” Henry signed. 

Isaac scowled. 

“It was more than that. He said that ‘subtitles ruin movies’ and then he threw a tantrum when his father put them on anyway,” He said to Harry. It was telling how none of it was signed. “He’s not my friend anymore.”

Well that explained their current moods. Harry pulled Isaac into a hug and then Henry. 

All he could do at this point was offer them support.

* * *

After their unusually emotional conversation Harry ended up staying over at the Brooks house for the whole afternoon. They played games together, had dinner together, and even watched a movie before Harry returned to number four. 

Still, in the back of his mind he kept thinking about what had happened. It reminded him of the hobbies and invites that Isaac had turned down in the past for fear of excluding his brother, and of all the media and literature out there that wasn’t accessible or relevant to people like Henry. 

Harry wanted to do something to cheer them both up. 

That’s when he thought of comic books. 

Off the top of his head he could think of two comic book characters that are deaf. From DC comics there is Hartley Rathaway the Pied Piper, and from Marvel there is Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye. It is a little ironic that both characters have a history of fighting on the side of the heroes and the villains. Harry just thinks that makes them more interesting and relatable though. 

Now his challenge was getting his hands on as many of the comics that featured those two characters as he could.

* * *

A few months later when he was over for Henry’s ninth birthday (just his birthday; Harry had declined the party invitation because Arcturus had offered to let him stay at Black Manor for a whole weekend while teaching him) he came with a box of comics from the US. He had a wide range of comics inside including: Tales of Suspense, Avengers, West Coast Avengers, Hawkeye, Detective Comics, and The Flash. Some of them were a lot older than the others, some were copies of the originals because Harry didn’t have the money or the means to get some of the originals. 

It hadn’t mattered. Henry and his family had been delighted by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I got the comic book stuff right. That was a real pain to research.


	17. Sirius Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write about the Haynes children, but then Sirius started talking my ear off.

_Dear Harry ___

_Thank you for your letter. You have no idea what it means to me to hear that you are well and happy. It was (and still is) a surprise to find out that you are in regular contact with my grandfather. Gramps has always been very stern and boring in my opinion, but I get that he has always taken family, and familial duty, very seriously. He never changed how he treated me, even after I was sorted into Gryffindor. My other relatives were calling for me to be resorted or moved to another school, but Gramps said that me being in Gryffindor was fine. He only distanced himself after I ran away. So, what I’m saying is, I can see him latching onto you and wanting to help you. Reggie and I never married, we never had any kids (as far as I know?). Helping you was probably the closest he could get with the rest of the main line out of the picture. ___

_I’m going to be staying at the hospital for a few weeks minimum, according to the healers. They say that I need to put on some weight, get rid of the fleas (ick), and see a mind-healer about the dementor-exposure. It’s not going to be fun, but I know that it needs to happen if I’m going to get back to my old self. Also, the head healer is kind of scary. I think she could throw me out my window with her bare hands if she wanted to. ___

_Gramps is hovering around me all the time now, which is annoying and useful. Annoying because I’m not a child anymore. Useful because he’s keeping people away from me that I’m not ready to deal with. I’m in no mood to handle the press right now, and although he’s made several requests to see me I’m really glad that Professor Dumbledore has been forced to leave me alone. I don’t know how I feel about him and his actions now. There’s a lot for me to learn about what’s been going on since I got locked away, as well as processing the things that the dementors didn’t let me work through, before I’m ready to deal with that mess. ___

_You’ll be happy to know that I’m listening to Gramps though. ___

_I hope to hear from you soon, ___

_Your loving godfather, _  
_Sirius Black _____

_PS. Just because you asked: my favourite animals are dogs, especially large black ones. And my favourite foods are mashed potatoes and gravy, toffee apples, and hazelnut flavoured cakes. ___

* * *

______________Sirius shifted from paw to paw as he waited next to his grandfather. He was nervous. Today was the day he was going to see his godson for the first time in nearly ten years. There was a cynical part of his mind that was convinced that it wasn’t going to happen. That an auror was going to jump out and arrest him for no reason or worse, that he’d wake up in his cell with the last few months having been a dream._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Bob, his mind healer, would tell him that he was being paranoid. He’d then ask Sirius to go through all the reasons why this couldn’t be a dream._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________This couldn’t be a dream because Sirius wasn’t able to create something this elaborate. He knew nothing about what a session with a mind healer looked like. Oh sure, they gave talks to all the aurors. But he’d known that mental instability ran in his family. He’d avoided those talks like they were the plague. Sirius would never have imagined his by-the-book grandfather yelling at the aurors either._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“How dare you call yourselves a force of justice! The muggles would have treated him more justly than you!” ___

________________That memory was nearly good enough for a patronus._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________This couldn’t be a dream or a trick because his grandfather was dressed in muggle clothes. What had happened to his grandfather? Growing up he’d never even dare think that Arcturus Black might one day wear muggle clothes willing. Of course, they are very posh clothes. The kind that made it look like Gramps was about to enter a church for a wedding. That sort of fancy, which really did clash with the fact that he was standing inside a muggle circus. Surrounded by crowds of non-magical people, along with animals, junk food, skin tight and revealing costumes (the old farts would have flipped out if they saw how many of the people here were dressed), and not another magical person or being in sight._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sweet Lady Magic, the current Lord Black and his only heir are standing inside a muggle circus tent._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________His mother would have screeched loud enough to wake the dead if she’d been alive to see it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius’s nose then caught the scent of flowers, dirt, oatcakes and other foods, on top of a familiar human smell. Sirius never forgot a smell, even after all these years he knew that his godson was close. His tail began to wag, and he stood up straighter. He was here, he was here, hewashere-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Arcturus tightened his hold on the leash attached to his collar._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Don’t overwhelm the boy Sirius.” The older wizard warned him in a low tone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________A young boy stepped out of the crowd and began to walk towards them. Sirius’s vision was a bit limited in this form, but he made out dark hair, bright eyes, and a face similar enough that the boy easy to identify._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius had heard rumours say that Harry was nearly a clone of his father. He was relieved and saddened to see that this was an exaggeration. James had been rounder in the cheeks in his youth, and his nose had been wider. To anyone paying close attention then Harry’s facial structure was a nice mix of his parents._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius bolted forwards and Arcturus, being such an old man, lost his grip of the leash._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Arcturus certainly didn’t hold his tongue back though in the aftermath._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________His father Orion would have been scandalised to hear his father say those sorts of words._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________In that moment Sirius didn’t care though, he was busy licking every inch of his godson’s face and basking in the glow of Harry’s laughter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________This close he could pick out the individual smells of rowan, hawthorn, and primrose. Of cooked eggs, and fresh bread, and various sweets. And the overwhelming scent of dirt and water and plants._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Harry must take after his mother and spend a lot of time in the garden then._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________That was a little unexpected, but it did give him a clue as to what to get as gifts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Hey Paddy. It’s so good to see you.” Harry said warmly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius woofed in agreement._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

* * *

________________“Are you sure about this?” Sirius asked. “I mean, I know that he’s manipulative. During the war there were… moments, I suppose. When things bled through the image of the old but harmless eccentric image that he cultivates. But the laws that have been passed through, the changes to Hogwarts over the last 50 years, and the situation that Harry was put in… Are you absolutely sure?” He asked again, this time the devastation he was feeling came through his voice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Yes… I am sorry about this Sirius. I know that he meant a lot to you,” Arcturus said, his expression and tone perfectly polite._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________In other words, false. He knew his grandfather better than that. Arcturus expected a certain level of intelligence and ferocity in his descendants. Sirius getting sentimental about his former headmaster wasn't something Arcturus would become sympathetic over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“You think me a fool for trusting him in the first place, don’t you?” Sirius asked with a knowing look._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The earnest expression fell away from Arcturus’s face. He gave Sirius a respectful nod._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“In part. I don’t forget however, that my negligence left you as a child in a position where you were vulnerable to his manipulations. Walburga was a terrible choice for a daughter-in-law and a mother. And my son Orion, he was too weak to stop her,” Arcturus finished with a dark edge._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius was quick to keep the conversation flowing. He knew his grandfather could talk at length about the ways he and his children had failed the next generation. It would all spiral out of control from there._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“What’s your evidence for Dumbledore’s treachery?” He asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Besides your own case and the case of Severus Snape?” Arcturus asked sarcastically. “Well, the laws he’s passed and the ones he hasn’t voted against are a matter of public record. Minnie, will you pass Sirius the copy you have? I know it’s a thick document, but I recommend you take the time to read it. The implications are… startling. I have the records of the changes that have been made to Hogwarts and the way it runs since the time Dumbledore became the deputy headmaster. Headmaster Phineas Black was very helpful in noting all the changes that have been made. As for Harry’s situation, the evidence there is more circumstantial. Harry doesn’t speak much of his relatives and he’s very guarded about his time with them. The information that I do have doesn’t prove anything that is arrest-worthy. But mark my words, that Dursley family tried their best to damage him,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius opened the book and had a brief scan of its contents. It looked to be legitimate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“What happens now?” He asked his grandfather._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“We combine our forces. You will be Lord Black one day, and I have much to teach you. In the mean time I will need you to put your talents to good use. Dumbledore and his allies must be kept away from Harry, and those responsible should pay for what they’ve done to him. Together, we should be able to greatly inconvenience them and not get caught while doing so,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“…Pranks?” He asked, just to make sure they were on the same page. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Yes, Sirius, pranks. Only the stakes are a little higher than when you were in school, and we will need to work as a team. Do I have your support?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“On my honour as a marauder.” He vowed without hesitation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

* * *

________________“Come on Remus,” Sirius called out in a sing-song voice. “We’re going to be late,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“You haven’t even told me where we’re going or who we are meeting Sirius,” Remus complained half-heartedly. There usually wasn’t much point attempting to escape from one of Sirius’s grand schemes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius gave him an affronted look._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“That would ruin the surprise Moony.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Sirius then reaches out and grabs his arms and practically drags him towards the door. Remus quickly starts moving towards it on his own, and soon enough Sirius is struggling to keep with his friend’s longer strides._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________It was at times like this that Remus was reminded about how much Sirius had lost in Azkaban. Even with the height difference, Sirius had never had much issue keeping up with him in the past. Unless he was channelling some of his werewolf strength._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________But even with good medical help Sirius had a long way to go before he reached his former fitness levels._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________They step into a secluded alley and Sirius takes the lead in apparating them both._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Which is fine seeing how only he knows where they are going._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________They arrive in Diagon Alley. Sirius sets off again, doing a valiant job of ignoring the people who are staring and pointing at him. Remus beats down the urge to growl at them and follows his friend._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________They make their way over to the southern end of Diagon Alley before Sirius stops._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“There he is! Hey Bambi!” He yells with excitement._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________A young boy with black hair and green eyes waves at them. He’s wearing a sky-blue summer robe with an embroidered black dragon starting at his shoulder and wrapping all the way around his torso. Remus can only stare, because it doesn’t take him that long to figure out who this is._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Hello Uncle Sirius,” The boy says, and Remus freaks out a little because when had Sirius been given the title of “uncle”? “And you must be Mr Moony. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You already know my name; however, I go by Henry or Bambi when in public. For safety reasons,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Harry holds out his hand to him. Hesitating for just a second Remus then reaches out and shakes it gently._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Just Remus or Moony is fine Henry,” He says, choosing to leave Sirius as the one who uses the more embarrassing nickname. “It’s really good to see you again as well, although I do wish Sirius had given me some warning,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“That wouldn’t have been as fun though Moons!” Sirius said before he started laughing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Remus supposed that the face he had made when he’d first seen Harry had been rather entertaining._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“So, what are we doing today?” He asked Harry, having already decided he trusted his friend's son to be more responsible than Sirius._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Sirius has offered to buy me a school trunk for my birthday. I’m here to give an opinion, Sirius is here to spend money, and you’re here to be the sensible one presumably,” Harry finished dryly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Hey!” Sirius reacted with an outraged squawk._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Harry gave Remus a look._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Well, it appeared that they were going to get along just fine._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

* * *

________________Sirius scowled at the tangled mess of wool and needles. He’d thought knitting was supposed to be easy. Heck, he’d chosen to knit a scarf. They were like, the easiest things to knit according to the delightful young lady who’d helped him at the craft store. Yet somehow, he’d managed to stuff it up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________This whole situation had started with his grandfather wearing a hand-knitted cardigan of all things while Harry had been staying with them for Yule. It had been a nice cardigan too: all blue, purple, and white wool that was very fluffy and warm. But muggle fashion, not wizarding. And they hadn’t been walking through the muggle world, so Sirius had been confused by the fact that his grandfather has chosen to wear it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Then Harry had seen him, and a delighted smile had broken out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“So, it fits well then?” Harry had asked. ___

_“Of course. You always make excellent clothes Harry.” Arcturus had answered smoothly. ___

____________________It turned out that his godson was really into making clothes and stuff. Like James’s dad had been. Harry never really bought things as gifts for people, he usually made or cooked them himself. He’d made and bound a diary for Sirius birthday in November (how had he found the time while at school to do that?), for Yule he’d knitted Sirius a doggie vest (so he could run around outside for longer without getting cold), and Arcturus had assured him that Harry would be making them both something wearable for Ostara this year (because Harry and Arcturus had been exchanging clothes for years now)._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Sirius assumed that his grandfather had something to do with Harry following the old ways, but seeing as Harry was happy to do so, and how it gave Arcturus a way of connecting with someone of “tainted blood”, he wasn’t going to stop them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Being a good godfather Sirius had decided that he would make something for Harry to wear this Ostara. That way Harry would get something hand-made as well._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Which was a great idea. In theory._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Trouble was Sirius had never knitted anything before in his life. He didn’t want to “cheat” and use magic, and his pride wouldn’t let him follow Arcturus’s example of just buying something for Harry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Fuck it. There was only one option left._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He picked up a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Molly Weasley!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, quick question for anyone who can be bothered to read this: Should I edit the chapter order so that these side stories are in chronological order? Or should I just leave it as is? 
> 
> My brain jumps around like a caffeinated rabbit when I'm writing stuff/world building and I just wanted to check that this is making sense for most people.


	18. Haynes family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I never thought that I'd get such a large response. 
> 
> I couldn't stop thinking about the Haynes family, so here's a chapter about them and Harry. Enjoy.

Harry is busy pruning Ruth Kennedy’s roses when he hears the news about the Haynes family. Ruth is sitting on the back porch with a cup of tea and a book. It’s a nice day, the weather cool enough that he’s not baking while out in the garden. He’s halfway under one of the rose bushes when Mrs Brooks comes running over to the fence to speak with her neighbour. 

Harry later realised that in her rush she hadn’t seen him, otherwise she would have spoken softly and taken more care with her words. 

“Ruth! Did you hear the news? The Haynes family are in the hospital!”

“Goodness me! No, I haven’t.” Ruth answered as she sat up in alarm. She put down her tea and her book, grabbed her walking stick and made her way over to the fence as quickly as she was able. 

“My dear, what happened? Is everyone alright?”

“They were involved in a car crash last night. Patricia found out when Rebecca got home late last night, close to midnight, to feed the cat. Patricia had become concerned when she noticed the family car wasn’t in the drive and had stayed up late to watch for further developments. She said that Rebecca had stitches on her face and told her that her husband has a cast on his arm and that her youngest son Tyler is in critical condition,” The mother of two finished in a rush. 

“Oh, that’s dreadful news Julia.” Ruth said earnestly and then put a hand on the younger woman’s arm. 

Harry quickly finished the bush he was pruning while doing his best to tune out the two women. They were talking quietly and doing their best to comfort each other; and Harry didn’t want to get in the way of their private conversation. They were worried for the Haynes family and worried for their own. A car crash could happen to nearly anybody and Harry remembered that Mrs Brooks had spent a lot of time with Henry in the hospital after he was born. She was probably dealing with old fears. 

He let them be. They were doing what they needed to, and he would do what he needed to. 

Right now, he needed to get back to his room. He wanted to carve flowers. Hopefully they would be get-well flowers, but if not…

He’d think of something.

* * *

Harry’s magic is pulling at him and he knows better than to ignore it. He pulls off his socks, has a drink of water, and then does a few stretches to loosen up his muscles. The gardening had left him a little stiff and he didn’t know how long he’d be carving for. It was best that he be prepared. 

He gets out his tools and selects some blocks of hawthorn wood. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes for a moment; he feels his magic surge as he sinks into a meditative state. His eyes start to glow faintly, and he hums the beginnings of a song older than written record. His song changes as he works, his motions guided by magic and instinct. The humming is broken up by hisses and growls, and even the occasional word or sentence in old but human languages. It’s not pretty, it’s primal. 

His other creations and Gem know not to bother him when he does this. Harry doesn’t have much control over his actions during these times, and his magic has the potential to be destructive if provoked. 

Harry sinks to the floor when he comes back to himself and realises what he has carved. Or rather, the symbolism of the plants that he’d carved. Bravery, childishness, farewell, and I will not forget you. He doesn’t need to be a professional seer to know what it means. It seems like Tyler won’t recover from the accident. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen a child die it never gets any easier. And he’d grown to care for the people who were his neighbours. He hadn’t thought he would at first; too many memories of them being distant and unhelpful in his past life that left an impact on his perception of them. It had taken time, but he’d moved beyond his old memories of them. Helped by those who had reached out to him and hadn’t been put off by his hesitant responses. He still thought there were too many gossipers around, and that there was a lot of pettiness and vanity and greed underlying the motivations of some people in the community. This time though, he felt like he was part of the community. He also now knew how to keep himself away from those people. 

Harry looked back up to the wooden flowers and leaves. His magic is as strongly connected to the planet as it is to death. For his magic to have picked up on Tyler’s death it could only mean that it would happen very soon. 

He gets back onto his feet a few minutes later. He coats his new creations in varnish and leaves them to dry on his desk. He busies himself by cleaning up the mess he made by hand rather than with magic as he tries to get his thoughts in order. 

He doesn’t feel well. 

He might need to mix up some tea tonight. Perhaps some chamomile flowers, burdock leaves, and a touch of valerian root. Just to help him sleep.

* * *

The next day Harry builds an altar in the corner of his bedroom. He would have set it up sooner, but it had taken longer than he’d expected for him to find all the materials that he wanted. 

He sets up a small square table in an empty corner and places a large piece of cloth over it. Then he sets a flat stone about the size of a dinner plate on top of the cloth. He puts a large white candle onto a clean plate and sets it to one side of the altar along with a matchbox. 

Harry goes back to his desk and pulls out the files he has on his neighbours. There’s a nice photograph of the Haynes family from a newspaper article that he cuts out and puts it in the centre of the altar. A quick search through his notes reveals that Tyler was born in March and so his birthstone is aquamarine. Harry takes his aquamarine stone as well as his ruby, which is his birthstone and his jasper (for Harry wants to boost the strength of his Earth magic) over to altar. He places them in front of the photograph. 

To finish he goes over to his potted plants. Very carefully he pulls out an individual plant, flower, stem, roots, and all, and grabs a small glass jar off one of his shelves. He carries them back to the altar. 

Harry takes out a knife and cuts his thumb. Blood starts to well up and he smears the blood onto Tyler’s face in the photograph. Then Harry picks up the small flower with his bloody hand and places his clean hand on the gemstones. He makes sure that there is enough blood on the plant before he begins channelling his magic. 

“From the Earth you both came and to the Earth you will both return. I bind you together.” Harry chants in Latin while feeding his magic into the spell. The stones light up and the blood gets soaked into the plant and the photograph. He feels something click into place as the magic takes hold. It wasn’t the first time he’d cast a monitoring spell like this.   
The flower would now sustain itself off his magic and would act as an indicator of Tyler’s condition. When Tyler died the plant too would die. That would be the time for him to light the candle. 

Harry ran his finger around the rim of the glass jar, imbibing it with an additional bit of magic. He put the flower into the jar where it started to float. 

He grimaced when he saw that the plant was already looking withered.

* * *

Harry kept his eye on the Haynes’ house over the next few days. Unsurprisingly, the family didn’t spend much of their time there. They were at the hospital with Tyler and an assortment of family and friends who came to lend their support. 

At Privet Drive Harry helped to rally the neighbours into pitching in as well. 

Mrs Crawford knew where the family kept their spare key. She went over to clean out the spoiled food and take out the trash but ended up surrounded by other people who wanted to help as well. Mr Morrison came early to vacuum before he had to run off to work. Mrs Manning and Mr Crawford cleaned the house’s gutters while Mr Manning took out the trash (to avoid any arguments with his wife). Harry brought the mail inside and bundled up Caesar the cat, who was distressed by the whole commotion of so many strangers entering his home and whatever he had gleaned was going on with his family. Harry didn’t put it passed the cat to know that something was horribly wrong; cats are clever animals. Any cat worth their nose would be able to smell stress and hospital smells. 

Throughout the day people showed up with ready-made meals that were soon stashed in the Haynes’s freezer. Others came to stock up the pantry, clean more of the house, do some of the laundry, or to help with the garden. Harry kept Caesar occupied with cuddles, food, and games. 

They were all gone by the time the remaining Haynes family returned from the hospital. They didn’t see Mrs Haynes leading her shaken son and daughter back into their home later that night. They didn’t see the surprise or the strange mix of relief and emptiness. They didn’t see the tears of gratitude from Mr Haynes. 

They didn’t need to.

* * *

Harry was right there when the flower on the altar turned to dust. He’d been reading a letter from Annabelle, who was in China on a family holiday, when it happened. 

He moved the gemstones and glass jar to one side and settled the plate with the candle into the centre of the altar. He tipped the dust from the flower around the base of the candle before lighting it with a match. 

He then knelt and prayed that Tyler’s soul would pass on smoothly.

* * *

Time passes as it always does. 

Harry attends the funeral and then lingers on the edges of people’s awareness. He watches over the Haynes family but keeps a low profile. He wasn’t a close friend, but he was determined to be there for if or when there was an opportunity for him to help them in their grief. Grieving is a long process, a painful one, but also an individual one. There was no one way to grieve. Nor was there a time limit. Harry will see that they make it through however, and that Tyler has passed on completely. That is one way that he knows he can help. 

It can be hard for children who die so young. Sometimes their spirits don’t realise that they have died and so they don’t move on. Sometimes they want to stay with their families, either because they see that their family is in pain and they want to help or because they just don’t want to let go. Sometimes they are just too scared to move on. 

Ghosts that linger can cause long term damage to themselves and to those around them. Seeing life move on without you can damage to the mental wellbeing of a ghost, causing them to become erratic or violent. With enough negative emotions powering them a ghost can affect the physical world, such as by causing power surges or throwing things. It’s different for magical ghosts which know what they are and can still interact with the world around them. They rarely deteriorate or become violent, and often leave the mortal plane when they are ready to. Ghosts can also cause negative emotions to stagnate and fester, especially if they died painfully, and this eventually poisoning the grounds they inhabit. Plants cannot grow. People and animals get sick. Their presence can prevent the people who were close to them from moving on with their lives too. Even though muggles cannot see ghosts most can feel them. Especially if they were close to the person that died. It can be impossible to move on if you can still feel that missing person’s presence. Especially if they died suddenly or violently. 

Harry thinks that Tyler has moved on. He hasn’t noticed any of the usual signs of a haunting and his family haven’t mentioned any strange occurrences, however Harry wants to make sure. It won’t hurt Tyler either way. 

He goes to his herb garden and makes a wreath of rosemary (for remembrance), oregano (signifying happiness to the departed), mullein (to drive away evil spirits; traditionally used for candle wicks and for funeral torches), and lavender (for good luck; it’s calming scent makes it a favourite of the fairies, and it used to be a tradition to give a bundle of lavender to a woman during childbirth to encourage strength). He places it at Tyler’s grave and smiles as he feels a wave of calm emanating from the wreath. It even reaches out to some of the nearby graves. Ghosts don’t usually linger at their grave sites; they usually are found where they lived or where they died, so it doesn’t take much to push them away from the burial grounds. 

He knows that Beltane is fast approaching. He can use that day to cleanse the Haynes’ home.

* * *

Harry wakes up to his alarm clock, his alarm clock being the sound of a wooden horse stomping its hooves impatiently. He had asked his creation to wake him up before dawn today and it had followed through. 

“Thanks buddy.” 

It was the day of Beltane, although it wouldn’t technically start until the first light. Harry has a lot to do and not very much time to do it if he wants to get away with it unseen. He dresses warmly and takes a backpack full of supplies with him as he sneaks out of the house. 

It’s cold outside and the ground is wet. Harry pulls out a jar and fills it with the morning dew. The first water taken on Beltane has healing properties and he wants to make use of that water later. 

He walks to the Haynes’ house and casts a wandless notice-me-not charm on himself. He pulls out a torch made from vervain and lights it once he’s standing on the northern most point of the property. Then he walks around the entire place, humming Greensleeves as he goes. It’s a simple cleansing and purification ritual but a powerful one. The burning of the plant is pungent, and Harry must hold the torch high to avoid getting smoke in his eyes, but it is worth it. As for his choice of song… he wanted something gentle. He’s doing this for Tyler Haynes after all. 

He’s lucky that the property is small though. Humming, walking, and holding a torch up high would become very tiring very quickly. The only way that farmers used to manage it was by going in a group and taking turns with the torch as they went. 

When he’s done with that he goes to the front of the house where a large wild cherry tree grows. Traditionally one should use sycamore, rowan or hawthorn for a May bush but that wasn’t an option today. It also wasn’t a rule that you had to use one of those plants, just tradition. Harry empties out his bag onto the ground and began sorting the contents. As much as he appreciated regular expansion charms it still made sorting through a bag for the exact item you were looking for a challenge. 

Harry looks down carefully at what he has gathered. 

He has a container of tiny bells, a container of wooden beads and painted stones, and a bucket of painted shells of varying sizes that have had small holes drilled into them. He has several flower crowns and flower chains made from yellow flowers such as primrose, marsh marigold, hawthorn, rowan, hazel, and gorse. He has lengths of ribbon and cloth and cord. He has a bouquet of spring flowers and the photograph of Tyler and his family together. There’s the jar of healing water and a pair of sturdy scissors. 

He’s ready. 

He starts with some of the beads and the shells. He scatters some around the base of the tree and its roots. The bright colours stand out against the dark green grass, and once the sun rises the light will catch off the reflective surfaces. 

Movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention. He looks over to see some fairies have gathered to watch him work. Harry pauses for a moment. They seem to be benign and he’d been aware of the possibility of his cleansing magic catching their attention. He looks over to them. 

“Would you like to help me?” He asks softly. 

A few of them duck away before he’s finished asking his question, but others remain. The bolder ones don’t wait long before flying over to investigate. 

“I want all the bells, beads, shells, flower chains and flower crowns to hang from this tree. Would you help me make it pretty while I prepare the clooties?”

He gets some nods. 

The fairies were quick and efficient workers. One pair set about cutting the cord into the right lengths, while six other teams formed to hang the ornaments, and an older fairy was busy flying around at a distance and giving advice about placement in a tiny, squeaky voice. 

Trusting that they had everything in hand (even with the occasional argument that he saw) Harry got to work making clooties. He got out the cloth strips and cut them to size before dunking them in the healing water, after which he hung them from the tree where there was space. The cloth would hold the healing magic for far longer than it would normally last. 

Harry then set the photograph and bouquet down at the base of the tree. By this point the bells and shells were all hung, and it was just the crowns and the chains that the fairies were having some issues with. More fairies had come over to assist their brethren, but they are small creatures trying to manoeuvre with rather bulky loads, so Harry gently lent his size to make it easier for them. 

When their work was done it looked amazing. Fairies have a great eye when it comes to decorating, and he thought that the May bush looked beautiful. It was colourful and shiny, and the decorations were spread out so that you could appreciate each one of them. He wasn’t sure how the Haynes family would take it; it might be too otherworldly for them or they might not like the fact that someone snuck into their front yard to decorate a tree, but he hoped that they would like it. 

The house and grounds were now free from any lingering or malevolent spirits. Now Harry could relax. 

Once he got the fairies to leave, that is. They seem to really like playing with his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write. Too much time spent thinking about death and then not finding much motivation. 
> 
> I think it turned out pretty well though.


End file.
